First Impressions: Remus and Tonks
by jncar
Summary: Every great love story has to start somewhere, and this one starts in the dingy front hall of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Part of the Marauders Redux universe.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: The Meeting

Tonks took a large spoonful of her vanilla ice cream, dripping with hot fudge sauce, and slurped it lustily into her waiting mouth. "Mmmm … oy! Eight and a half! Eight and a half!" she cried, while striving to keep the melting concoction from dribbling down her chin.

"Which one?" answered Cory, glancing feverishly around.

"The bloke that just came out of Flourish and Blotts," said Tonks, pointing.

"Oooh," said Cory. "Nice … but not quite an eight and a half. I think just an eight."

"Are you sure? Just look at that backside. That's got to be worth an extra half point."

"It is," said Cory. "Without it, he'd just be a seven and a half."

"You're such a harsh judge. I think you're blinded to the true attractiveness of this fine looking man because you're too damn smitten with your own personal _perfect ten_."

Cory giggled. "You're probably right." The old friends smiled at each other, and returned their attention to their ice cream sundaes.

Nymphadora Tonks and Cornelia Dodderidge (now Cornelia Heaton) had been friends since their first night at Hogwarts when they became dorm-mates. They had originally bonded over a mutual dislike of their Christian names, but by the end of the first term they had become best friends. To this day, six years after leaving school, they still made a point of getting together at least once a month for a girls night out. This time they had spent the evening shopping, and were wrapping things up with some of Fortescue's ice cream concoctions.

Rating the attractiveness of passing men on a ten point scale was an old girlhood game that they still indulged in during moments of excessive silliness, and tonight Tonks found it a welcome distraction. It was just what she needed to calm her nerves before going to her second appointment of the evening—the appointment that she hadn't and couldn't tell Cory about.

"So how do you think Mister Perfect Ten is handling little Geoffrey, on his own?" asked Tonks.

Cory got the same dreamy smile on her face that she always wore when she thought of her husband—even after more than four years of marriage. "Poor Danny. He's probably getting desperate for my return, right about now. Geoffrey steadfastly refuses to go to bed without his mummy there to tuck him in. You really do need to find the time to come and see him, you know. If you wait much longer, he'll forget all about his Auntie Tonks!"

Tonks felt a pang of sorrow. Cory and Danny were the only friends from school that she had stayed close to, and now, with her increasingly hectic schedule, she was drifting apart from even them. Her new, secret, commitment would only make things worse. "I promise I'll come over some time this month. I'll owl you as soon as I find a time that works," she said.

Cory smiled with sympathy, "You poor, high-powered career woman. I can't believe that I used to want your life. Now, I wouldn't trade you for anything; my boys are the only full time job I want. Don't any of you work-addict Aurors ever make time for personal lives?"

Tonks sighed. Her mother kept asking her that same question. And she'd started asking it herself. "A few of the blokes in the department have girlfriends, but only one is married. It seems that Simon was right, after all. This just isn't a family-friendly career." She had parted ways with her almost-fiancé, Simon, nearly a year ago, a few weeks after her promotion from trainee to full Auror.

"Don't give that prat more credit than he deserves."

"I'm not. But he was right about this, and I'm not too proud to admit it."

Cory eyed her in silence for a moment. "Do you ever regret it? Choosing career over family?"

Tonks shook her head. "If by family, you mean Simon, the answer is definitely no. But I do sometimes wonder if the right man came along—would I be willing to give it all up to have a family with him? I'm just not sure."

"I suppose we'll have to wait until you meet the right man, and then we'll find out."

They chatted amiably for several more minutes, while finishing their ice cream. Then Tonks glanced down at her watch. "I'm sorry to cut this short, Cory, but I've got a meeting in fifteen minutes. I really need to get going."

Cory frowned. "What kind of meeting do you have at half past nine at night? Or is it some sort of top secret Auror business?"

"Not this time. I'm meeting with Moody."

"Old Mad-Eye? I thought he was retired."

Tonks nodded. "He is, but lately he's been meeting with everyone on the Auror squad, one on one. Word is he's trying to find out who's on Fudge's side, and who's on Dumbledore's." What she failed to mention was that her first meeting with Moody had been five days ago, that her first meeting with Dumbledore had been three days ago, and that she was now, in Scrimgeour's words, "a dangerous vigilante."

Cory looked surprised. "And which side is Moody on?"

"Dumbledore's," said Tonks flatly, watching her friend's reaction closely.

Cory looked anxious. "So … Mad-Eye believes Potter's story?"

Tonks nodded. Cory asked, "Do you?"

Tonks leaned in closer to her friend. "I do." She paused, watching for her friend's reaction. Cory's face grew slightly paler, and her whole body seemed to tense. Tonks decided she better try to lighten the mood; she'd never intended to ruin the night with this sort of talk. She forced a light smile onto her face, and quietly added, "But it would be best if you keep that to yourself—it's not an opinion that's looked on favorably by my employer."

Cory smiled weakly in return, and nodded. She looked down at the table, and began to fidget with her hands. "You really think that … that You-Know-Who, is back." It was a statement, not a question.

Tonks reached out to take Cory's hand. "Don't be too frightened. But promise me that you'll be careful? And promise me that you won't ever take anything you read in the Daily Prophet at face value? Please? "

Cory looked into Tonks's eyes, and nodded. "I promise," she whispered.

Tonks shifted around the table to give Cory a hug. "I'm sorry to end our girls-night-out like this."

"It's okay," said Cory. "It's better that we know—so we can be on our guard. I just wish…"

"What?"

"I just wish that Geoffrey didn't have to grow up with the same fear that we did. It doesn't seem fair, somehow."

"It never is," said Tonks. She hugged her friend even harder, as if her affection could make the world a safer place. "I love you and Danny—you know that, don't you?"

Cory nodded, with a warm smile. "Of course I know! And you know that we love you too. That's not going to change, Tonks, no matter what."

"Thank-you, Cory. I don't know what I'd do without you."

A few minutes later they bid farewell, and Tonks watched Cory walk away down a street that now seemed darker than it ever had before. In the past few weeks their world had changed, and no one else seemed to know it. Everyone else on Diagon Alley seemed carefree and happy, completely oblivious to the danger that lurked just out of sight.

Tonks shook her head. _You shouldn't have to bear this burden, Cory,_ she thought. _You shouldn't have to raise your son in a world full of fear. And I'm going to do my best to make sure that you don't have to._

Ten minutes later, Tonks stood by herself in a dim and dirty alley a few streets away from the Leaky Cauldron. She watched as two figures popped into existence in front of her with the sharp crack of Apparation.

"Right on time, boys," she said, forcing her face into a grin, in spite of the nervous butterflies in her stomach. "It's nice to see you don't keep a girl waiting."

Moody huffed, as his magical eye spun wildly in its socket. "You should speak to your elders with more respect, girl."

"Oh, come on, Mad-Eye. You know you love me," said Tonks. Moody's only reply was a snort of disgust.

Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped forward, a light smile on his face. "So, Tonks. Are you ready?"

Her heart was already beating faster, but she nodded firmly. "I'm ready. Let's go meet Sirius Black."

………………………

The wadded up old shirt glanced off the rim of the center of three rubbish bins lined up at the end of the hall, and then toppled gracelessly in. "Yes!" shouted Sirius Black, raising his fists in the air. "Ten points! This gives me an eighty point lead, you know."

Remus Lupin nodded, with a defiant grin on his face. "You haven't beaten me yet, Padfoot. We have three more rooms to clear out tonight, and that gives me plenty of time for a spectacular comeback."

The two old friends, charged with making Sirius' ancestral home habitable again, were in the process of clearing out the dressers and wardrobes in the third floor bedrooms. When Sirius had complained violently of his boredom, Remus had had to think quickly—after all, he didn't want to be saddled with all the work himself. So he had improvised the game of Rubbish-Quidditch. Much to his delight, Sirius had taken to the game enthusiastically. Apparently, banishing the last traces of his dear departed family to the rubbish bins was much more exciting when there were points involved.

While Sirius waved his wand to move the detritus of their various missed shots from the floor into the rubbish bins, Remus flicked his wand, and summoned the contents of the next dresser drawer. A pile of old socks settled to the ground in front of them.

"Now this is more like it," said Remus. "Socks will stay in a ball much more effectively than shirts. I can certainly stage a comeback with socks."

"Comeback my arse," said Sirius. "You're going down, Moony."

"We'll see about that," countered Remus, taking careful aim with his first musty sock. It landed cleanly in the center of the left-hand rubbish bin. Remus smiled broadly, and took a deep bow.

He was still amazed at how natural it felt to be horsing around with Sirius again, after all these years. They had shared a short visit when Sirius returned to England to look after Harry during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, but it had been hurried and tense. The first few days after the end of the tournament, and the return of Voldemort, had been equally tense. But in the past week they had found time to catch up—spending several long nights drinking and talking, and reliving their past together without much thought for the long dark years that had separated them. Sirius was now acting like the very same man he had been before the tragic events that had interrupted his life. It was almost as if he were pretending that his time in Azkaban had never happened. Remus wasn't certain if Sirius's attitude was entirely healthy, but Merlin knew that after his ordeal of the past fourteen years, he deserved some happiness. And if pretending that he was twenty again made him happy, so be it.

"Hah," said Sirius. "One lucky shot is hardly a comeback." He bent to retrieve a sock for his own turn. He spent a long time carefully rolling the sock into a tight ball, and then took a shot. It sailed neatly into the center bin. "Apparently," he said, "socks are equally favorable for _my_ style of play."

The old friends continued their game amiably for several minutes. Just as Remus was getting ready for another shot, Sirius spoke. "Kingsly is bringing my cousin by tonight," he said. Remus's shot went wide, knocking into the wall beside the right-hand bin.

"Your cousin?" asked Remus. "He's bringing your cousin here tonight?" Sirius had mentioned nothing of the sort to him after Kingsly's visit yesterday.

"Isn't that what I just said?" said Sirius nonchalantly, taking another shot with an old belt that he had tied into a knot. It clattered clumsily into the center bin.

"But," said Remus, "why didn't you tell me that Andromeda was joining the Order? What about Ted? Is he coming too?" All thought of taking another turn had fled Remus's mind. Andromeda and Ted Tonks were well-respected members of the community, and held a great deal of influence over a wide circle of acquaintances —bringing them into the Order was a great triumph from a public relations standpoint.

"I didn't say it was Andromeda," replied Sirius, picking up an old hair brush and taking aim. He loosed it, but his shot was too powerful, and the brush thunked noisily against the far wall.

"You can't possibly mean Narcissa?" said Remus. Lucius Malfoy's wife _would_ be an asset to the Order, but the likelihood of her betraying her husband seemed extremely low.

"Hardly," said Sirius, successfully making a shot into the left-hand bin with an old perfume bottle. Sirius smiled at the sound of it shattering. "Guess again, Moony."

"Well," said Remus, "what other cousins do you have?"

Sirius stooped to sort through the pile of Black family heirlooms at his feet, and finally selected a pendant that seemed to be a lock of human hair intertwined with a twisting serpent. "You've forgotten little Nymphadora," said Sirius as he took aim, and sent the pendant flying. It glanced of off the rim of the center bin, and fell to the floor.

"Nymphadora? Isn't that Andromeda's daughter?" It had taken just a moment for Remus to recollect the name of Andromeda's only child.

"So you do remember," said Sirius, hurling a statuette into the center bin.

"Is she really old enough to join the Order?" Remus could hardly believe it.

"Not only is she old enough to join the Order," said Sirius, once more rooting through the pile of knick-knacks, "but she also happens to be the newest member of the Auror Squad."

"Great Merlin, I feel old," said Remus. The two times he'd seen Nymphadora, she'd been a tiny little girl scampering underfoot. And now, she was an Auror. The years had gone by faster than he thought.

"Speak for yourself, grey-hair," replied Sirius, tossing a candlestick into the left-hand bin. "I'm ahead by a hundred-and-forty, by the way. If you're still planning on that comeback, you'd best get started."

Remus tightened his jaw. He had to admit that the most petty part of himself felt a twinge of envy that even after more than twelve years in Azkaban, Sirius's hair didn't show the slightest trace of grey. Resolutely, he stooped, took up a dingy black-covered diary, and expertly launched it toward the left-hand bin. As it smoothly entered the bin, he shot Sirius a smug look. "Why didn't you tell me about this earlier?" he asked, stooping to retrieve another projectile.

Sirius shrugged non-committaly. "Dunno. Didn't know what to say, I guess," he said, as Remus scored another ten points with a serpentine quill-stand.

"Well," said Remus, once more reaching for the pile of knick-knacks, "I think it will be a great thing for the Order to have another Auror in our ranks. We need all the help inside the Ministry that we can get." A gilt quill now followed the quill-stand, but ricocheted off of the bin and clattered to the floor.

"I confess I'm rather curious as to what sort of a Black would grow up to be an Auror." Sirius sent an ink-pot flying, and it landed in the right-hand bin.

"You always wanted to be an Auror," said Remus, lobbing a monogrammed notepad into the center bin.

"I know," replied Sirius. "That's why I'm so curious. Perhaps another Black has finally followed in my illustrious footsteps."

"Infamous footsteps is more like it," said Remus.

He watched as Sirius chucked a small mirror into the left-hand bin. It cracked on the rim and, improbably, the pieces managed to fall both inside and outside of the bin.

The two men stood silently, pondering the phenomenon. "What do you think, Moony?"

Remus shook his head. "No score. The rubbish has to fall entirely into the bin."

"Oh come on! At least give me halvsies—five points."

Remus raised an eyebrow at Sirius. "This, from the man who is still more than a hundred points in the lead?"

"Fine," snarled Sirius, stooping to grab another item from the pile at their feet. "Wanker," he muttered.

"You'd best watch your language around your little cousin. You wouldn't want her to think poorly of you."

"Hah," said Sirius as he scored again. "She'll probably think I'm a bloody hero, for escaping Azkaban like I did."

Remus sniggered. "Keep telling that to yourself—maybe you'll eventually believe it."

Sirius snorted wordlessly in reply. The two spent the next few minutes quietly taking turns, until the pile of knick-knacks at their feet was gone.

Remus sighed. "So, when are they supposed to get here?"

"What time is it?"

Remus glanced at his wristwatch. "Ten past nine."

"They should be here in less than a half-an-hour."

"Up for one more round before they get here?"

"Nah. I've kicked your arse enough for one night. I need a drink."

Remus nodded quietly, prudently choosing to reserve his discussion with Sirius about his excessive drinking for another day. The two men abandoned their game, and made their way down to the kitchen to await the arrival of Nymphadora Tonks.


	2. Chapter 2: Introductions

Chapter Two: Introductions

As she and her companions popped into existence in the alley that served as an Apparation point for Order headquarters, Tonks could feel the butterflies in her stomach doing somersaults. She hadn't been this nervous since the first time she had taken the Auror examination.

Tonks didn't have very many memories of Sirius Black, but the ones that she did have stood out vividly in her mind. She remembered that he was the only one of her relatives—other than her father—that would play tag with her. She remembered that he always made her laugh. And she remembered thinking that he was amazingly handsome. The Christmas that she was eight years old, she had asked her mum why cousin Sirius hadn't come to Christmas dinner that year. Her mother had told her that he was away on business, and that she was sure he missed her very much. Gradually, as the months passed, she had stopped asking for Sirius. It wasn't until the week before she started Hogwarts that her parents had told her the truth.

She had felt angry, confused, sad, hurt, and betrayed all at once. How could her fun and charming cousin have done something so horrible? Her confusion was only worsened when, the summer before her fifth year of school, she caught her mother writing a letter to Sirius.

"I'm sorry I hid this from you, Nymphadora," Andromeda had said. "I just didn't think you would understand."

"You're right!" Tonks had exclaimed. "I don't understand. Do you write Aunt Bellatrix, too?"

"No, I've never written to my sister," Andromeda had said, shaking her head.

"Then why Sirius? Why?"

"I've never been fully convinced that Sirius is guilty."

"Of course he's guilty!" Tonks had yelled. "They caught him red-handed!"

"The evidence against him isn't as solid as the Ministry would like people to believe. And to this day, they have never granted him a trial."

"A trial won't change the fact that he's guilty."

Andromeda had given her daughter a long, hard look. "Someday, Nymphadora, you'll learn that the truth isn't always as simple as you would like it to be."

The discussion had ended with Tonks storming away to her room to fume. Her Mother had continued to write Sirius twice a year, right up until his escape.

_Mum will be so happy to know that she was right,_ thought Tonks as they left the alley. _I don't know how she knew it, but she was right. If only I could tell her._ Tonks had long suspected that her mum's intuition was so keen that she was just one step away from being a seer. It was a trait that Tonks had always wished she could have inherited. It would have been very helpful tonight, if she could magically know how Sirius was going to react to her.

Her butterflies seemed to be riding some sort of rollercoaster inside her belly as she emerged into a small, untidy square surrounded by dirty, run-down houses. _Merlin, I need to calm down or I'm going to make a bleeding fool of myself._ Tonks searched her mind for a thought that would soothe her nerves. As she glanced at Moody walking beside her, it came to her. _He's a _one_ if I've ever seen one._ She sniggered quietly, and Moody glared at her.

"What's so funny, Tonks?" asked Kingsley from her other side. She looked at him with a smile. _A solid _seven, _at least,_ she thought.

"Nothing," she said, looking away. "Just a passing thought."

"Well, keep your passing thoughts to yourself," snarled Moody.

"No problem," said Tonks, still smiling. Her silly game was apparently good for more than just some fun with Cory—her butterflies were already calming down. "So," she asked, "will anyone else be there, or will it just be Sirius?"

"Not so loud," said Moody.

Tonks rolled her eyes, and looked at Kingsley for an answer.

"Remus might be there," said Kingsley.

"Remus?" she repeated.

"Remus Lupin," said Kingsley. "He's been staying with Sirius—keeping him company."

"That name sounds so familiar," she said. "I wonder if I've met him."

"You might have met him when you were a girl," replied Kingsley. "He and Sirius have been mates since their first year at Hogwarts. They were both in the Order together during the first war."

Tonks nodded. "That must be it," she said, but she still felt like she had heard or seen his name more recently. Maybe it would come back to her once she met him.

"We're here," said Moody, stopping in front of two houses, numbered eleven and thirteen. "Do you remember the address that Dumbledore told you?"

"Yes," she said, thinking intently of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London. The tall, squalid house materialized before her eyes, seeming to push the other two houses aside. Moody stepped up the front stairs, and tapped the weather-beaten black door with his wand. After the sound of several clicks and clatters, the door creaked slowly open.

Tonks followed Moody through the door, with Kingsley following close behind her. "Be quiet here in the entry hall," he whispered to her.

"What for?" she whispered back, looking over her shoulder. Before Kingsley had a chance to answer, she felt her shin collide with something hard. She stumbled awkwardly forward as the thing, apparently an oversized umbrella-stand, toppled sideways, its contents clattering noisily to the ground.

With a deafening shriek, two tatty black curtains on the wall suddenly billowed forward, then swept themselves aside to reveal a massive portrait of a sallow-faced old woman in a black cap.

"For that!" called Kingsley over the shriek.

The woman in the portrait was foaming at the mouth, with wide wild eyes, as she continued to shriek. "_Filth! Foulness! Half-breeds! Mutants! How dare you cross my threshold! How dare you contaminate my hallowed home with your vileness! Scum! Freaks! Blood traitors! Begone from the halls that my fathers walked! Begone!_" Other portraits on the wall of the long entry began to join in the clamor, until the noise was so immense that Tonks thought her ears might burst. She stood stunned, and open-mouthed, staring at the shrieking old woman before her, while Kingsley and Moody scurried about, sending silencing charms at the other portraits.

Suddenly, two tall strangers dashed past her, and each gripped one of the billowing velvet curtains on either side of the portrait. "Shut up, you bitch!" cried one of the men, as he and his companion struggled to pull the curtains closed.

"_You! You! Youuuuuu!_" shrieked the portrait one last time as the curtains closed over her. At last, she fell silent.

The man who had yelled at the portrait turned to his companion, and spoke. "We really should do something more permanent about her, you know. I wonder if fire would do the trick?"

"You'd likely just burn the house down around her. I think we'd better not try it," said his companion.

"You ruin all my fun," said the first man.

"Always glad to oblige," said the second.

The first man turned to Tonks, who continued to stand in stunned silence. He looked her up and down with piercing grey eyes. "So," he said, "you must be my cousin. Were you the one who caused all the racket?"

She nodded mutely. The butterflies had just started a dance-party in her stomach. "Sorry. I tripped."

Sirius eyed the scattered umbrellas. "I see."

The tension in the air was thick. _Merlin, I need to calm down._ She looked back up at the ragged velvet curtains. "So," she said, with a dry mouth, "who's the harpy?"

"You don't even recognize your own family, cousin? That's my dearest old mother."

Tonks eyes opened a little wider. "Bugger."

Sirius smiled. "My thoughts exactly. We just opened a bottle of wine. Would you like some?"

She nodded, trying to smile back. "Yes. That would be great."

"Come on then," he said, gesturing with a jerk of his head that she should follow him, and then headed down the hall.

Tonks hesitated for just a moment, and then hurried to follow. She heard the other men falling in behind her. The butterfly party in her gut was still going strong. _Lord—I can't believe I agreed to a glass of wine. I don't know how I'll keep it down._

Sirius led them down a dark staircase to a massive stone-walled basement kitchen, dominated by a long wooden table. At one end of the table sat an open bottle of wine and two half-empty glasses.

Tonks paused next to the table, and watched as Sirius went to one of the many cabinets lining the walls, and retrieved three more glasses.

"None for me," quipped Moody.

"Naturally not. I just thought you might enjoy drinking that stale water of yours out of fine stemware, for a change. You must give my mother credit for something—she did have excellent taste in stemware," replied Sirius.

Moody grunted.

The strange man—presumably Remus Lupin—had already taken a seat next to his glass of wine. He was a rather unremarkable fellow. His grey-flecked brown hair looked as if he'd gone slightly too long without a haircut, and he had a thin build, but without being athletic. He was wearing a thread-bare brown jumper over a rumpled-looking white shirt. He reminded her very much of the proprietor of the used-book shop that she had frequented with her father when she was a girl. He hardly seemed the type to have been a boy-hood friend of the charming and boisterous cousin that she remembered. _ He's a five. Maybe five and one half, if he would get his hair trimmed,_ she thought suddenly. And once again, the silly old game began to quiet the butterflies in her stomach.

She studied Sirius more closely as he poured the wine. The Sirius of her memories was a solid eight and one half—possibly even a nine. In contrast, the Sirius of the wanted posters was no more than a three. This new Sirius, standing before her in the dim, warm kitchen was another matter altogether. His rich dark hair now hung long and loose around his shoulders. His face was thin and angular and pale. He was still a very arresting figure—but the extreme handsomeness of his youth had been leeched out of him during his long stay in Azkaban. _Six and one half. Seven, when he smiles,_ she thought. Distancing herself from her present situation to perform this analysis calmed her butterflies considerably. They were now barely fluttering.

She took a seat across from Sirius and Lupin, with Moody and Kingsley sitting on either side of her. Sirius handed them all their glasses of wine. "Thank-you," she said.

"Just doing my proper hostly duty," Sirius, sitting down. "Is hostly a word?"

"Not likely," grunted Moody.

"If the rest of us understand what you mean by it, then it counts. Communication is what really matters, don't you thing?" said Kingsley.

"Thank you! I can communicate. It's nice to have talents."

Tonks smiled. Her cousin hadn't lost his sense of humor. It was nice to know that someone could go through the worst life could throw at them, and still have the spirit to make jokes.

Sirius was studying her face intently. She sat quietly, watching him watching her. Finally, he spoke up. "You didn't grow up quite the way I expected. I thought you'd look like your mum—tall and fair and statuesque. But you don't really look like your mum at all. You look more like Ted."

She felt her smile begin to falter, but then forced it back onto her face. "I've long since resigned myself to having inherited my father's snub nose and freckles. Those don't bother me so much, but I could have done without the chubby cheeks." Years ago she had learned that self-mockery was the easiest way to cope with her insecurities about her appearance.

"I actually think you do look quite a bit like you mother," said Lupin, unexpectedly. "Your eyes—they're not quite the same color, but the shape, and the way they're set in your face. Almost exactly like your mother's."

Tonks looked at him in bemusement. "You know my mother?" she asked.

"Knew her. A little—when we were in school. I'm Remus, by the way. Remus Lupin." He stood, extending his hand across the table. She reached out to take his hand, and looked him in the eye.

"Good to meet you," she said. His hand was warm, and strong. On closer inspection, his face was better-looking than she had originally given him credit for. Smile lines around his eyes lent an inviting friendliness to his appearance, and his eyes themselves held a vibrant twinkle—like a promise of things to come. _Perhaps he's a six after all—any man who compliments a strange woman's eyes the first time they meet without coming across as a hackneyed flirt has to be more than a five._

"Damn," said Sirius. "Introductions. I forgot the introductions. My hostly credibility is rapidly deteriorating."

"It started deteriorating the moment you used the word hostly," said Lupin, with a smile, returning to his seat.

Ignoring his friend, Sirius said, "Wait a minute—aren't you…?" He was waving his index finger at her animatedly.

She raised her eyebrows. "Aren't I …?"

"What I mean is," said Sirius, "if you don't like the freckles and the cheeks, couldn't you just … whoosh?" He passed his hand quickly in front of his face, in an apparent attempt to mime morphing.

Tonks smile was real and genuine this time. "It's more of a slurp, than a whoosh. And yes I could. And when I was younger, I used to. But for some time now I've had a personal policy that when I'm not on duty, I only wear my natural face. It's a matter of self-respect."

"That, and it helps clear up certain trust issues," added Kingsley.

"Trust issues?" asked Sirius.

"For some reason, there are people who seem to have a hard time trusting a law enforcement official who never wears the same face twice," said Tonks.

"Hell's bells, girl, there are people everywhere who wouldn't trust a metamorphmagus as far as they could throw her—no matter what her job is. That's why you have to hold yourself to a higher standard," said Moody, reiterating a lecture he'd already given her at least a half a dozen times.

"Thank you so much for that happy reminder, Mad-Eye. I really appreciate it," said Tonks. She lifted her wine glass and took a far too large gulp. Moody really needed to learn to keep his opinions to himself.

"If she's made it on to the Auror squad, then she's already proven herself to be an exceptionally trustworthy witch, and anyone who feels otherwise is foolish—or ignorant—or both," said Lupin, catching her off-guard again.

"Thank you," she said. "Although, if some of my other colleagues knew I was here, they might disagree with you."

"But they would be deeply mistaken," replied Lupin. "You won't do anything here that would violate your oath to the Ministry."

"Except for the bit where I'm fraternizing with the Ministry's most wanted fugitive."

Sirius burst out in loud, barking laughter. "She's got you there, Moony!"

_Moony? Is that some sort of insult I've never heard before? Or is it a nickname?_

"Indeed," replied Lupin.

"Nymphadora," said Sirius enthusiastically, "I think that you and I are going to get along famously."

"We very well might," she said, staring him down as sternly as she could muster. "But first, you should know that I'm quite handy with an instant-scalping hex, and I won't hesitate to use it if you _ever_ call me _that name_ again." Her steely tone of voice was having the desired effect, as Sirius was staring at her in open-mouthed bewilderment.

"It's Tonks," she said. "Just Tonks."

……………………………..

Remus struggled to hold back his grin at the girl's deadly serious pronouncement. It seemed well practiced, and he had no doubt that she had used it to great effect in the past. He had found, however, that people who threatened to use instant scalping hexes and the like as payback for minor social slights were very rarely serious about it.

She was turning out to be much more of an enigma than he had expected. When he had first dashed upstairs to help silence the cantankerous Mrs. Black, he thought that Kingsley and Moody must have pulled a Muggle teenager off the streets as some sort of practical joke. The petite young woman staring with wide-eyed bewilderment at the portrait was clothed in well-worn jeans and a red and white tie-died tee-shirt, accented by some chunky bracelets and large hoop earrings. Her strawberry blonde hair was short and trendily tousled. She may wear her natural face, but Remus seriously doubted that she wore her natural hair—the color was nothing like that of any of her relatives.

Despite her unusual clothing, his greatest shock came when he got a good look at her face, and so clearly saw both of her parents looking back at him. He was afraid he had given away too much when he made the comment about her eyes, but she had actually seemed to appreciate it, and the others had let it slide. So the unusually large amount of time that he had spent studying Andromeda Black's eyes when he was only twelve would still remain a secret.

For nearly a decade, starting his first year at Hogwarts, Andromeda had been held as the ideal of female beauty in his mind. Of course, he had never confessed it to Sirius, or any of his other friends. He felt glad that Sirius hadn't told him of Tonks' visit until the last minute, or he surely would have spent so much time wondering about what Andromeda's daughter must be like, that he would have made himself half-sick with nervous curiosity.

And she was nothing like he would have expected.

Sirius recovered himself from his brief shock at her sudden pronouncement, and barked a few laughs. "Tonks, it is, then. I see you didn't inherit the Black family fondness for ridiculous names."

She smiled—a very pretty smile, that made her look even more like her mother. "Not at all," she said, shaking her head. "But much to my chagrin, my mother did. And I've paid the price my whole life."

"I don't think it's such a bad name," said Remus, impulsively.

She looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Oh really?"

"Really," said Remus, teasing her.

"Best watch it, Moony, or you might find yourself suddenly bald," interjected Sirius.

"Learn from my example, Remus," said Kingsley with a broad grin, running his man over his smooth scalp. During their years at Hogwarts together, Kingsley had proudly sported a large afro. "I called her by her Christian name a few too many times, and now look at me."

Remus chuckled along with the others as Tonks gave Kingsley a playful swat on his shoulder.

"Keep in mind, you're talking to a Sirius and a Remus, here Tonks," said Sirius. "You don't exactly have the monopoly on strange names in this room."

"But I do seem to have the monopoly on hated names," she replied.

"True," he said. Sirius appeared to be delighted with his young cousin. Remus was glad—Sirius needed all the friends he could get right now.

"So, just Tonks," continued Sirius, "what in the world made you decide to defy family tradition, and become an Auror?"

"Hmmm," she said, with a playfully thoughtful expression on her face. "I think that defying family tradition was a large part of the appeal." Remus smiled. _She may be following in Sirius' infamous footsteps after all_, he thought. "I also liked the idea of adventure, and justice," she continued. "I thought I might help balance the Black-family cosmic scales a bit—they were tipping too far to the dark side, so I jumped on board the light side."

"Here, here!" injected Sirius. "I felt the same way myself."

"Funny you should mention that," said Tonks. "You see, those were all my reasons for becoming an Auror up until the time you escaped from Azkaban. And from then on, I only had one goal in my mind: to be the one that captures Sirius Black." Her face had grown somber, her voice icy. "And now," she said, "I finally have you." She stared intently at Sirius, who tensed up, and grew even paler.

Moody and Kingsley were both talking at once. "You've betrayed us! You've betrayed us all!" came Moody's growl as Kingsley said, "You wouldn't dare, Tonks. We outnumber you four to one."

Remus felt a cold knot in his stomach as he stared at the girl's serious face, until he noticed a slight upward twitch at the corners of her mouth. He had seen that exact same expression hundreds of times before—on the face of her cousin, Sirius, whenever he had just pulled a successful prank. Remus watched as the twitch started growing into a genuine smile—and then he knew for certain. His mouth cracked into a grin, and he started laughing.

Tonks looked at him with a twinkle in her eyes, and finally allowed her smile to fully blossom as she joined in his laughter. "At least someone around here has a sense of humor!" she said. "I was beginning to think that fugitive humor must be against some sort of rule!"

Sirius stared at her with his mouth hanging open, and then burst into laughter. "Sweet Merlin—you had me going there!" He continued to laugh around his words, almost choking on them. "And Mad-eye," he wheezed around his guffaws, "I thought you'd throw a fit right here on the table!"

Remus and Tonks continued to laugh along with him, as Moody let loose a string of semi-intelligible curses. "Kingsley," said Tonks, "you should have seen the look on your face! I thought you were about to obliviate me back to my childhood!" She pounded her hands on the table in apparent glee.

Kingsley scowled. "That wasn't very funny, Tonks."

"Oh yes it was!" said Sirius. "It was the funniest bloody thing I've heard in months!" He chuckled a few more times.

Moody's face was red, and his magical eye was spinning out of control in its socket. "You've got no sense of propriety, girl. None at all."

Tonks huffed at Moody, and Remus felt like it was time to step in. "I hate to say it, Tonks, but Alastor does have a valid point."

She looked stunned. "But—you were the first one to start laughing!"

Remus nodded. "It was the easiest way to stop Alastor from hexing you senseless. I appreciate the humor, but your timing was a little inappropriate."

Tonks looked annoyed. Sirius quickly jumped to her defense. "Her timing was perfect, Moony. If she'd waited any longer, none of us would have taken her seriously."

"My point exactly," said Remus. From the look on Tonks' face, any rapport he had built with her earlier was quickly eroding.

"No harm was done," said Kingsley, "but it could have been. I know you're prone to using humor when you're nervous—which is fine. But like Remus said, your timing needs a little work."

"Oh stop being a bunch of stuffed shirts," said Sirius. He turned to Tonks. "Let's you and I go find a cozy corner somewhere to drink our wine and share some more laughs together, and leave these old curmudgeons down here to scowl at each other."

Tonks smile began to come back, but Moody snorted. "This old curmudgeon has had enough of you lot for one night," he said, standing. "I'm going home."

Kingsley rose also. "I'll go as well—I've got work in the morning." He looked sharply at Tonks. "Do you promise not to arrest our host when I'm gone?"

"I promise," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Good. Then I'll leave you in your cousin's capable hands. You two have a lot of catching up to do."

Kingsley bid his farewells, Moody grunted and shook his head at them, and the two men exited up the stairs.

Tonks grew quiet again, her eyes on her cousin across the table from her. Both of them looked like they had a million thoughts flying through their heads, and no idea where to start talking about them. Their gaze at each other was intensely personal, and Remus began to feel as if he was intruding.

"Well," he began, "it seems as if there is only one old curmudgeon left to intrude upon your privacy." He rose from his seat. "I ought to leave you two alone."

Sirius didn't object, but Tonks looked up at him with an almost pleading expression in her eyes. "You don't have to go, if you don't want to," she said.

Remus felt sorry for the girl. He could tell that she was intensely nervous. The news of Sirius' innocence must have come as a greater shock than she was letting on. He knew from his own experience that it took a while to feel comfortable around Sirius again, while one was still trying to get rid of the last traces of habitual bitterness and anger toward him. But the best way to do it was just to spend time with him. And now was her best chance.

"It's no trouble," he said. "I've some reading I've been meaning to do, and like Kingsley said, the two of you have a great deal of catching up to do. I think it would be best if I left you to it."

"Goodnight, Sirius," Remus said with a nod as he rounded the table.

" 'Night, Moony," replied Sirius, still looking at Tonks.

As he passed her, Remus lightly touched Tonks' shoulder. "It's been good to meet you. I'm looking forward to seeing more of you around here, from now on."

She looked up at him, with a nervous smile. "Thanks. It's good to meet you, too, Remus."

He gave her an encouraging smile, and a nod, and headed up the stairs. Sirius had once been very close to the Tonks family, and it was time for that bond to be renewed. He could tell that Nymphadora still felt uneasy about the situation, but given what he had seen of her personality, Remus had no doubt that she and Sirius would soon be fast friends. _I wouldn't mind having her for a friend, myself._ He thought. _This house could do with more friendship and laughter, and so could I._

Remus slowly made his way up to the library, to find his book. But his mind was elsewhere, remembering the Sirius of all those years ago, and wondering if Tonks would be the one to help bring that old Sirius back to life.

………………………………..

When Remus first left her alone with Sirius, Tonks felt as if the butterflies were about to restart the dance-party in her gut. But a little more wine and his relaxed attitude soon set her at ease. At first they kept the conversation light, swapping stories of their varied misadventures back in their school days. Sirius and his "Marauders" sounded like quite an interesting gang. After a few anecdotes about them, she began to better understand Lupin's friendship with Sirius—clearly he was not as straight-laced as he appeared. One of Sirius's stories involved Lupin accepting a dare to expose his back-side to a group of older Slytherin girls. Tonks had little doubt that this was the origin of his rather bizarre nickname.

Not long after opening the second bottle of wine they started getting more personal. Sirius told her about a few old girlfriends, and she told him about her old boyfriends, and about Simon. And then they began to talk about their parents. Sirius told her all about growing up as the black sheep in the family, and about what it was like to leave home so young. And Tonks told him about growing up with an overprotective, controlling, secretive mother.

By the time they had started on the third bottle, things were getting even more serious. He told her a little about losing his friends, and his freedom, all in one week. And he talked a little about his godson, Harry. Then she told him about her mother. She told him about all the letters to the Ministry, and asked him if he'd received the other letters—the letters to him. When he said yes, he sounded like he was about to cry.

That was when she decided that they had had more than enough wine, and changed the subject by telling a silly story about going robe-shopping with her mum. He seemed relieved.

When she suggested that it was time for her to go home, he insisted that she stay over in one of the guest rooms, and she reluctantly agreed. He showed her to her room, and bid her goodnight.

She flopped down onto the large bed, and lay for several minutes starting up at the heavy canopy overhead. Her head was spinning with wine and wild thoughts. Finally, she decided that there was no way she was going to fully process the events of the evening before sobering up, and there was no way she was going to sober up without sleeping, and there was no way she was going to sleep without getting the taste of wine out of her mouth.

She stumbled out of bed, opened her door, and ambled down the dark hall toward the loo that Sirius had pointed out to her. Once there, she conjured herself a toothbrush and scrubbed her mouth. She washed her face, and then opened the door and headed back into the hall, where she promptly ran headlong into a tall dark shape.

She let out a silly, startled shriek, and fell backwards, landing soundly on her bottom. "Ouch!" she said, peering up through the dim light to see Remus Lupin standing above her.

"Are you all right?" he asked, a concerned look on his face.

"I've survived worse," she replied, trying to push herself back to her feet.

"Here, let me help you," he said, reaching down and taking her arm.

"Thanks," she said, as he gently eased her to her feet. _Merlin, he's tall,_ she thought, looking up at his face.

"I thought you'd have left by now," he said.

"When I said I'd come back tomorrow to help you two finish getting this place ready for the Weasley invasion, Sirius said I might as well just stay the night. So here I am."

"Lovely. So do you know the Weasleys, then?"

"Yes. I used to be friends with Charlie. He's the second oldest."

Lupin nodded at her. He raised one eyebrow. "Just friends?"

"No. Yes. What bloody business is it of yours, anyway?"

"Sorry," he said with a smile. "Just my insatiable curiosity speaking. Forget I said anything."

_Lord, his dimples are adorable when he smiles. Those dimples are almost enough to make him a _seven.

She hadn't even realized she was staring until he said, "Tonks?"

"What?" She blinked a few times, coming out of her dimple-induced reverie. "Sorry," she said quickly. "I'm a little tipsy. And tired. Tired and tipsey." She giggled. "I think I need to sleep now."

"I think you're right."

They edged around each other in the narrow hall, and Tonks gave him a little wave. "Goodnight, Remus."

"Goodnight—Nymphadora," he said. The last thing she saw was a mischievous grin on his face as he stepped into the loo and shut the door behind him.

She stood in stunned silence. _He hardly knows me! What makes him think he has the right to tease me like that?_

Still pondering the cheekiness of one Remus Lupin, she stumbled back to her room, and climbed into bed. It wasn't until she was about to drift off to sleep that she realized he had been wearing pajamas decorated with a pattern of Quidditch-playing dinosaurs. Her last conscious thoughts were: _What a bizarre man. But he does have nice dimples._

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, so far. Stay tuned—the next chapter involves adventures in house-cleaning, and more fun flirting.**

**If you leave a review, you can have your pick of an encounter with suave Remus who compliments your eyes, polite Remus who laughs at your tasteless jokes, or silly Remus who wears dinosaur pajamas. They all come with the nice dimples. ;)**


	3. Chapter 3: Further Evaluation

_A/N: Thanks go out to my Perfect Imagination beta reader, Logical Quirk, for her help throughout this story. And thanks to the community over at Metamorficmoon on LJ: your insightful discussions did a lot to help me develop the backstory of Tonks's relationship with her parents._

Chapter Three: Further Evaluation

Remus was up early, as usual. After dressing he headed down to the kitchen. It was rather messy. Three empty bottles of wine stood among the abandoned glasses, and open packages of crisps and biscuits sat on the table surrounded by the crumbled remains of their contents. Remus shook his head, and started tidying up, while brewing himself a cup of tea. Once the table was clean, he started a batch of porridge, and put on a pot of coffee for Sirius. Finally, he sat down to enjoy his tea with his latest book.

A few minutes later he heard some steps coming down the stairs. He glanced up with a smile. "Good morning, Nymph-"

"Watch it, Lupin!" she said, pointing at him with a glare on her face. "You only got away with that last night because I was drunk and half asleep. But you won't get away with it again." Her hair this morning was a short, spiky neon orange. It seemed that his guess about her not wearing her natural hair was correct.

"I'll be careful to restrict my use of your Christian name to times when you're inebriated. Do they happen often?"

"Very funny," she said, slumping down into a chair, and running her hand through her hair.

"Would you like some coffee?" he asked.

"Merlin, yes," she replied.

"I thought you looked like a coffee person," he said.

"And I thought you looked like a tea person," she replied, eyeing his cup.

"It's nice to know we're both so predictable." He summoned a mug as he rose, and poured her some coffee. "How do you like it?"

"Cream and sugar, thanks. I don't think you're predictable."

"You don't?"

"I never could have predicted those God-awful pajamas of yours."

He chuckled at little. "They were a gift. The ones I bought for myself are solid navy blue. How about some porridge?"

"Yes. I'm famished," she said. "Navy—now that's predictable."

He set the coffee and breakfast in front of her, and took a serving of porridge for himself. "The neon hair, on the other hand, was not. So I suppose you win for unpredictability."

"Thanks," she said, taking a large sip of her coffee.

"You're welcome. And it's Remus, by the way."

"What?"

He sat down with his porridge, and looked into her eyes. They were looking very bright this morning. "You called me Lupin. I don't like it when friends refer to each other by their surnames—it seems too impersonal."

"So it's not just a matter of driving me batty, then?" She gave him a hard look.

"Not entirely," he said. He took a spoonful of his porridge, and watched her out of the corner of his eyes. Her tee-shirt was a little rumpled, but otherwise she seemed surprisingly chipper for the morning after a night of drinking with Sirius.

She took another sip of coffee, while stirring her porridge absently with her spoon. "So we're friends now, are we?"

"We could be. If you can put up with a predictable old curmudgeon who delights in driving you batty."

"I might be able to." Her smile was open and guile-less. He had never known her father very well, but from what he knew of Ted Tonks, she was much more her father's daughter than her mother's.

They ate in quiet for a few minutes. As she neared the bottom of her porridge bowl, Tonks reached across the table, and picked up his book. She held it in front of her, and read the title aloud with an amused smile on her face. "_Denizens of the Deep: Dark Creatures of the Caves of Europe_. Planning a spelunking trip, or something?"

He smiled wryly at her, and shook his head. "No. No spelunking for me. The author is a friend of mine—we used to work together."

"Huh," she said, putting the book back down. "So are you some sort of dark creature expert, or something?"

"Or something," he said. _That's something of an understatement._ "I've done some work with dark creatures over the years."

"What do you do now?"

Remus let out a small sigh. Here it was: time to confess his rather pathetic employment status to her. But he thought he knew a way to put a positive spin on it. "I'm… in between jobs at the moment. But with the reconvening of the Order, that's actually a good thing. We have need of more people who can devote their whole attention to the needs of the Order. Right now, the only members capable of that are Alastor and myself."

"Hmmm," she responded. Much to his relief she refrained from probing him any further about his career.

They both swallowed their last few bites of porridge. Then Remus asked, "Did you and Sirius get on well last night?"

"Yes," she said. "He's a fun guy—which is surprising, considering… you know."

"I know." He nodded.

"It was a little strange though. I spent so many years resenting him, and having to do a complete turnaround in just a few days like this…. It's just been a little odd, I guess." She toyed with her spoon.

Remus smiled at her. "Odd is an understatement. I found out the truth more than a year ago, and yet there are still moments with him that feel very—surreal."

A hint of mischief seemed to be dancing in her smile—or maybe it was just in his head. "More than a year ago, eh? So I guess you're the one we should have been talking to all this time, instead following all those inane tips."

"Kingsley personally interrogated me more than a dozen times, I assure you. Sirius spent most of the time hiding from me, as well, for my own good. He can be considerate, from time to time."

"Yes, it's always very thoughtful when friends don't let friends get arrested for aiding and abetting a fugitive." He wasn't imagining the mischief in her face this time.

"Isn't it though?"

Her eyes were twinkling. "Sirius told me some very interesting stories last night. All about you Marauders."

"Oooh. That can't be good."

"That depends on what you consider good."

"What I consider good _now_ differs vastly from what I considered good _then_."

"So you no longer consider mooning a group of seventh-year girls _good_?"

He tightened his lips and took a deep breath. Apparently any last hopes of appearing respectable and dignified in front of Tonks had already disappeared. "No, I would say not."

"How about recklessly abusing your power as a Prefect to let your friends do some co-ed skinny dipping in the prefect's bathroom?" She looked wickedly gleeful, staring right at him with a grin on her face.

_Oh dear. He's telling _those _stories already?_ He looked down at the table and rubbed his forehead. "Not one of the high points in my Prefect-career, I'm afraid."

"What I can't figure," she said, "is why you weren't doing the skinny-dipping yourself?"

"How are you so sure I wasn't?"

"Because you're so sodding predictable—remember?"

And she was absolutely right. The one time James had offered to return the favor and stand guard for Remus and his girlfriend at the time, Remus had lost his nerve at the last minute. After building her up for a "big surprise," all day, he ended up just taking her down to the kitchens for some clandestine chocolate cake and ice cream. Which had been pleasant enough, in its own way. But not pleasant like nude bathing with his girlfriend would have been. One of his many life-time regrets.

"Apparently so." He looked down, and swirled around the last dregs of his tea.

"Remus?" she said, her tone of voice suddenly tentative and soft—a dramatic shift from her playful attitude of just moments earlier. "I owe you an apology."

"An apology?" He looked back up at her, and she looked astonishingly meek, for someone with bright orange hair.

"You were right. About that joke last night. It was in pretty bad taste, and I shouldn't have said it. I'm sorry about the way I reacted when you—you know."

"When I chastised you?" he said, raising one eyebrow.

"Yeah. That." A timid, apologetic smile formed on her face.

"Apology accepted. Although there was really no need—I don't hold grudges."

"Hmm," she said, biting her bottom lip and looking down at her hands as they tapped on the table. "I do."

Remus wasn't quite sure how to reply to this sudden admission, and was still trying to formulate a response when she went on.

"That's what has me in such a muddle right now. You see, when I made that joke last night, I wasn't entirely lying. I really have spent most of the last year wanting to be the one to catch him."

"I see," said Remus softly, nodding at her as she looked back up into his eyes.

"I didn't get my promotion to full Auror until just after his escape from Hogwarts," she continued. "I begged them to let me assist on the case—but they refused. Said it would be a conflict of interest, for me to track down my own relative. So then I asked to at least look over the case file. They refused again. It had been classified, and access was restricted to only Fudge, Scrimgeour, and the Aurors directly assigned to the case."

Remus was fascinated. He had heard tales of growing corruption in Fudge's administration, and he suspected that this story was headed in that direction. She went on. "It's not standard procedure to classify a file like that. In fact, that was the only instance I'd ever heard of. And earlier this week, Kingsley told me why. He said that the file contained statements from Dumbledore, and other witnesses, that elicit grave doubts as to whether or not Black was guilty at all."

_No wonder there was no publicity about the statements from Dumbledore and myself_, thought Remus. _They were all hidden away in this "classified" file._

"Kingsley said that he'd begun to think that Sirius was innocent, but he never let on, or they would have taken him off of the case," said Tonks.

"Kingsley told me much the same story," said Remus. "And when Fudge publicly came out against Dumbledore and Harry, saying that Voldemort had not returned, that was when Kingsley came to Dumbledore, and joined the Order. Because if the administration was corrupt enough to imprison an innocent man for twelve years without a trial, then it is certainly corrupt enough to suppress the truth about Voldemort's return."

Tonks nodded, her face serious. "He told me something else, as well. He said that the reason the file had been classified, was because of me and my mum."

This took Remus aback. "What does your mum have to do with the classification of internal Auror files?"

She smiled grimly. "Mum wrote letters to the Minister of Magic and to the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot every single month of Sirius's imprisonment, asking them to give Sirius a fair trial. They were afraid that if I saw the file, I would start following in my mum's footsteps, and publicly champion Sirius's innocence. They classified it because they didn't want me to be suspicious about why I'd been singled out."

"Great Merlin. I never thought that Fudge would go that far to protect himself from scandal." Remus's dislike for the Fudge administration was compounding almost daily. He should have expected this from someone who would put the likes of Dolores Umbridge in positions of power. "Did Dumbledore never respond to your mother's letters?" he asked.

"Only with polite notes of refusal," replied Tonks. She ran her fingers through her hair, absently ruffling it. "He was as convinced of Sirius's guilt as the rest of us. He apologized profusely to me for my mother's sake when we met earlier this week. It was a very strange experience having the world's most respected wizard apologize to me for making a mistake. What made it worse was that I need to apologize to Mum just as much as he does."

She had piqued his curiosity. He knew that she must have many layers to her personality, to seem so young and jovial yet attain a position like Auror. He was fascinated to watch those layers start to unfold before him. "Why is that?" he asked.

She sighed, and looked down at her fidgeting fingers again. "Mum hid her true opinions about Sirius from me for years, and when I finally caught her writing the letters, we got into a huge row. I felt like she was betraying everyone who had been hurt or died in the war. But she refused to give up on him. I've been a little bit angry about it ever since. But all along, she was right." He noticed that as she was tapping her fingers on the table, her fingernails were cycling through different colors. He decided it must be a nervous tick.

"So it seems you do owe her an apology," he said carefully. He didn't want to interfere in her family business, but neither did he want to turn her away when she needed help.

"I owe her so many apologies," replied Tonks. "The oddest thing of all this past week wasn't trying to forgive Sirius—it was trying to forgive her. For some reason, I was ready to forgive Sirius; even eager to forgive Sirius. But not my mum. Sirius had always been more of an abstraction, or a matter of principle for me—not a real person. So when a happier reality presented itself, I was ready to embrace it. But I've had to deal with my mum each and every day of my life, and things haven't been very good between her and I for a long time. This week I've had to look inside myself more than I ever wanted to, and reexamine all the old grudges I have against her. And the more I've thought about them, the more I realize that she was right about a lot of the things I've held against her for most of my life—or at the very least, we were equally wrong."

Remus nodded encouragingly, pondering her dilemma.

Her fingers were tapping quickly on the table, and the colors of her nails were changing so rapidly that he couldn't keep track of them. "I know I need to do something—I need to make amends somehow. But I just can't figure out how to explain all this to her without telling her things that I've sworn to secrecy. I've made such a muddle of things with her that I don't even know where to start." Tonks looked up into his eyes, then shook her head with a little smile on her face. "I don't even know why I'm telling you all this. I'm sorry—I'm sure the last thing you wanted this morning was for this nutty lady you just met to dump all her problems on you."

"Don't worry about it, Tonks. I really don't mind listening."

"Thanks."

Remus said, "I wish I could be more help with your mother, but I'm afraid I haven't any constructive advice other than be patient. And, as my father always told me, when someone says something that upsets you, stop and count to five before you reply."

"What for?"

Remus laughed. "I still haven't figured that one out. It was just the only advice I could think of."

"Well," she replied, the twinkle in her eye re-igniting, "I'll have to try it sometime, and see if your dad might have known what he was talking about."

"If it actually works, let me know. I've never tried it myself." They were both laughing now. She was amazingly easy to talk to. Remus wondered if she knew how quickly she made people feel at ease, or if it was just so much a part of her that she had never realized she was different from anyone else.

"Thank you. For listening," she said.

"You're welcome," he hesitated before continuing, but the openness of her expression emboldened him. "I may not have been much help with your mother, but I think I know why you told me all this."

"Oh really? Why?"

He glanced away from her briefly, and rubbed his chin. Then he looked back up at her, and said, "All of us in the Order learned, in the first war, to confide in each other. Not because we would have necessarily chosen each other as friends under ordinary circumstances, but because there was no one else we could trust. All of us shared the same knowledge, and were privy to the same secrets. We were all fighting the same fights, and facing the same danger. There really was no one else we could turn to without compromising everything we were fighting for—not even our families. So we had to become a new family, of sorts. Because if we couldn't be there for each other, then we were truly alone. And no one should be alone. I think that's why you shared this with me. There was no one else."

Her fingers had stopped tapping on the table. She was staring intently at him with an unreadable expression on her face. "That was… very profound," she said. "I'm beginning to think you might not be so predictable after all."

Remus felt a little sheepish. He'd never thought of himself as particularly profound, and had never been comfortable with people complimenting him. He shifted in his seat, and looked down at the table again, to escape her penetrating gaze. "It was just the truth. That's all."

"You got one thing wrong," she said. "I think that even if there was someone else to confide in—I still would have chosen you."

He looked back up in mild bewilderment, and involuntarily held his breath when he saw the soft smile on her face. He wasn't sure if he should be flattered, or … something else. They sat in silence for a moment, just looking at each other.

"Coffee," moaned Sirius, stumbling into the room, breaking their comfortable silence. "I need coffee."

"Coming right up," said Remus, rising to his feet, somewhat relieved. As Sirius slumped heavily into a chair, Remus poured him a cup of hot black coffee. Tonks was favoring Sirius with a chipper morning greeting as Remus set the coffee down before him. Sirius merely grunted unintelligibly in reply.

"You'd better be patient, Tonks. He's never fit for conversation until he's had at least two cups of coffee," said Remus.

"Git," muttered Sirius, in between lusty gulps of coffee.

"See what I mean?" said Remus.

………………………..

Tonks helped herself to another cup of coffee, and Sirius to another two. The playful banter between Remus and Sirius never let up. She found herself hoping that she would still have that kind of relationship with Cory and Danny in ten years time. _God willing, we'll all still be here in ten years time._

Finally, when breakfast was finished, Sirius leaned back with a sigh. "So," he said, "what's on the agenda for today?"

"The Weasleys are planning on moving in tomorrow, so we'd better finish getting those bedrooms ready for them, or Molly will be very unhappy," said Remus.

"Heaven forbid we make Molly unhappy," said Sirius.

Tonks had once seen Molly in a fury over a prank played by the twins. It hadn't been pretty. "She's a force to be reckoned with when she's unhappy, Sirius," said Tonks. "It would be better to just have the rooms ready—trust me."

"How do you know?" asked Sirius. "Did you shag one of her boys?"

Tonks's mouth gaped open. "Sirius!" she said. Apparently she wasn't the only one in the house with an inappropriate sense of humor.

"I do have it on good authority that she used to be _friends_ with Charlie," said Remus with a quirky little smile.

Remus's humor wasn't so different from Sirius's after all. "You rat," she said, scowling at him.

"Oh," said Sirius, raising his index finger and waggling at her. "There aren't many rules in this house, but one of them is we _never_ call our friends _rats_. It's the worst possible insult, and I won't tolerate it." He finished his warning with a smile and wink—which lessened the threat level considerably.

"I'll keep that in mind."

"So. Charlie?" said Sirius, leaning back and putting his feet up on the table. "Is he one of the one's we'll be housing?"

Remus shook his head. "Sorry to disappoint, but Charlie is currently living in Romania, studying dragons."

"Damn," replied Sirius. "And there were so many questions I wanted to ask him. Very interesting questions." He smiled at her wickedly.

"I guess you'll just have to use your imagination," said Tonks.

Sirius leered at her. "That might be just as fun."

Tonks laughed. She'd never realized that being sexually harassed could actually be fun. It must depend on the person who was doing the harassing. "You're disgusting, you know."

"It's a trait I've striven to cultivate."

"I hate to interrupt this delightful exchange," said Remus, "but perhaps it's time to get to those bedrooms?"

"Slave driver," grumbled Sirius, but he stood to follow Remus.

Tonks was beginning to think that a large part of Remus's current duties for the order involved keeping an eye on her volatile cousin. As she had watched Remus this morning, she found that much to her surprise, being sober had in no way diminished the appeal of his dimples.

Once they arrived at the rooms destined for Weasley-occupation, Remus took charge in an amusing stern-nanny fashion. He led them from room to room, captaining them in tasks ranging from doxy-extermination to dusting, and from laundering the linens to disposing of unwanted family heirlooms. For the first hour, Sirius and Remus dominated the conversation, trying to one up each other by telling embarrassing school-days stories about one another. Finally, after Sirius had finished the story of how he hit Remus with a nosebleed-hex during his first kiss with a girl that he'd fancied for ages, Remus abruptly declared that it was rude of them to exclude her from the conversation.

"Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'm learning the most extraordinary things about you two—I think could listen for hours."

"But Moony does have a point, cousin. Maybe it's time to start learning some of your dark secrets—if you have any?" Sirius cocked his eyebrow at her mischievously.

"Perhaps I don't have any dark secrets?" she said.

"Oh, you've got them, all right," said Remus, his eyes twinkling as he looked at her. "It's just a matter of whether or not you'll share them."

"Come on," said Sirius. "I'm sure you managed a few spots of mischief when you were in school. Fess up."

"Well," she said, "I did misbehave a little—a few times."

As they all continued to work, she favored them with a few of her school-girl exploits. They were delighted by her sabotage of the Slytherin-team Quidditch brooms as a celebration when she made the Ravenclaw team. They laughed out loud at her tale of how, at the beginning of her fourth year, she wore a different guise to every new Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and each time insisted that she was a new student that was starting the term late due to illness. The new teacher that year—a doddering old man—had taken three full weeks to catch on. And they were particularly impressed by her invention of the inside-out jinx that caused a person's underwear to suddenly appear on the outside of their clothes.

By the time she was done with her stories, it was time for lunch, and they all headed downstairs for some cheese and tomato sandwiches. She sliced the tomatoes while Remus sliced the cheese, and Sirius lounged at the table with a bottle of butterbeer. After a few slices, she looked up at Remus's face, a good eight inches above her head. He seemed to feel her eyes on him, and he turned slightly to look down at her, offering her a little smile. She smiled back. After the third such glance-and-smile exchange during the sandwich-making process, Tonks began to wonder why she was suddenly so intent on flirting with a graying unemployed six-and-one-half who, on first glance, had reminded her of a shabby book-seller. _Because he's undeniably fanciable_, came the thought, unbidden, into her mind.

As they sat down with their sandwiches and butterbeer, she forcefully quelled any further such thoughts, as she felt somehow certain that no good would come of them.

"Please tell me we're done?" pleaded Sirius as he finished his lunch.

"I'm afraid not," replied Remus. "We've got two more dressers and a desk to clear out, the floors to scrub, and the clean linens to put back on the beds."

Oh, hell," said Sirius. "Can we at least find a way to make it fun?"

_Fun? How can those sorts of chores be made fun?_

Remus said, "That all depends on Tonks." He turned to look her in the eye, and asked, "So, what do you say to game of Rubbish-Quidditch?"

Forty minutes later Tonks found herself cheering as the last item of Black family rubbish—a stained ink jar—circled noisily around the rim of a rubbish bin before landing neatly inside. "Yes!" she said. "I do believe that makes me the undisputed champion of Rubbish-Quidditch."

"Well done," said Remus, grinning at her.

"My hat's off to you, cousin," said Sirius. "Are you sure you were a Beater, and not a Chaser?"

"I'll have you know that excellent hand-eye coordination is an essential skill for someone of my profession," she replied.

"In that case," said Remus, "you should excel at our next challenge."

"And what is that?" she asked.

"Scrubbing races."

"Scrubbing races?" she said, raising her eyebrows.

"Scrubbing races," he repeated. "We'll each have two rooms, one bucket, and one sponge. Whomever finishes scrubbing their floors the fastest—and has them cleaned to my exacting standards—wins the prize of watching the losers make-up all the beds by themselves."

"Now that," said Sirius, "is a prize worth winning."

Tonks, however, felt her spirits falling. Scrubbing charms were among the plethora of household spells at which she was completely inept. And she knew that these two would never let her hear the end of it.

Remus gathered the supplies while Sirius and Tonks divided up the rooms. Soon, she found herself standing in front of a large bedroom, a bucket of sudsy water at her feet, and her wand at the ready. Sirius was down the hall from her, and he caught her eye with a wink. Remus was on the floor above them, and his voice called down the stairwell. "Ready, steady, go!"

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Sirius's sponge leap out of its bucket and swoosh into his room. _Okay, you can do this Tonks. Just a flick of your wand, and…_ She watched as the sponge flopped lazily out of the bucket and landed with a splat on the dark wooden floor. It sat there, unmoving, as if it were taunting her. So much for her scrubbing charm.

She glanced over at Sirius, who was staring into his room with a look of concentration, expertly flicking his wand back and forth. She sighed. Perhaps some creative levitation would do the trick. She levitated the sopping sponge a few inches off the ground, and sent it lazily floating over the bedroom floor, dripping suds all along the way. _This might work,_ she thought. _I can just douse the whole floor with water from the sponge to let it soak, and then use a quick drying spell to finish the job._

Unfortunately, though she might be expert with a levitation spell, she didn't know any wringing-charms, and the sponge was depositing water on the floor at an excruciatingly slow rate. After a few tries of dipping the sponge in the water, and soaring it across the floor, she realized that her plan was destined for failure.

"Hah!" came Sirius's voice from down the hall. She looked over to see him dashing, bucket in hand, to his second room. She wasn't even half-done with her first.

"Bugger this," she muttered under her breath. It looked like she was going to have to resort to extreme measures. She lowered her wand, strode purposefully into the room, snatched the sponge out of the air, knelt down, and started scrubbing furiously. Every time her sponge started feeling dry, she levitated it quickly back to the bucket, dunked it with a splash, and pulled it soaring back into her hand. Although the hand-scrubbing was going faster then the magical kind had been, she was still going dreadfully slow, and getting soaking wet in the process.

Splash, scrub. Splash, scrub. Splash, scrub. She tried to concentrate on speed and no longer even looked over her shoulder once she'd gotten a hang of finding the bucket with her soaring sponge. Splash, scrub. Splash, scrub. Splash…. This time, instead of soaring back into her hand, the sopping sponge failed to reappear. She sat back on her heels, and looked over her shoulder in confusion. Remus and Sirius both stood in the doorway, staring at her with huge grins on their faces.

"Looking for this?" said Sirius, holding out the dripping sponge. He and Remus burst into laughter, and she felt the warmth of a blush spreading across her face. "Did I forget to mention that I'm total shit at scrubbing charms?" she said.

They laughed even harder, with Sirius leaning against the doorframe to supporting his shaking body. This time, she even joined in a little.

After the laughter began to subside, Remus said, "Don't worry, Tonks. I'll finish it up for you."

"Thanks," she said.

"So what was that about hand-eye coordination that you mentioned earlier?" said Sirius.

"Get stuffed," she replied, eliciting more laughter from her cousin.

"I won, by the way," said Sirius. "I think the two of you can handle making the beds without my supervision, so I am going to go get a drink." With a wave, he headed down the stairs.

Tonks brushed the damp hair back from her face, and rose to her feet. She looked at Remus and asked, "Isn't it a little early yet for a drink?"

"Not for him," said Remus. "It's something I've been meaning to bring up with him, but I haven't found the way yet. I guess I've been hoping that Molly could sort him out for me, once she moves in."

"If anyone can sort him out, it's Molly," said Tonks.

"I certainly hope so." He took a deep breath. "Well, I'll finish up here. You go ahead downstairs and collect the linens."

"You really don't have to finish my rooms for me—I can do it myself, really."

His smile took on a teasing slant. "I seem to remember seeing some rather compelling evidence to the contrary."

She glared at him. "Go ahead," he repeated. "I'll be finished when you get back."

Begrudgingly, she slogged down the several flights of stairs to the basement laundry, and then slogged back up, levitating the massive pile of bed-linens. True to his word, by the time she returned Remus had finished scrubbing her floors, and appeared to have scrubbed the hall and some of the stairs as well.

She allowed the linens to settle in an untidy pile in the newly-cleaned hall. She stared at Remus. He stood at the base of the stairs, effortlessly sending the sponge swiping across each step, with the bucket of soapy water floating lightly beside it. Within moments the top stair was clean, the sponge was settling without a splash in the bucket, and the bucket landed lightly at his feet.

"Sirius didn't really win, did he?" she asked.

"I…neglected to mention to him that I was already working on the upstairs hall when he finished his second room."

"Why?"

He smiled. "Because, as you would put it, he's shit at bed-making charms."

She chuckled. Sirius was lucky to have a friend like him. "I must warn you," she said, "bed-making charms are another weakness of mine as well."

"Hmmm. I'm sensing a pattern here."

She laughed again. "Unfortunately, yes. I have always been a complete dunce at house-work charms, and I can't seem to get over it. I suspect that it's due to witches like me that our kind started using house elves."

"If you'd like one for your flat, I'm sure Sirius would be glad to give you his."

"That nasty little monster that was lurking in the corner the whole time we were clearing out the rubbish?"

"That's the one," said Remus.

"Uck. No thanks."

Remus was looking at her closely, as if appraising her for something. "If you like," he said, "we could make-up the beds the Muggle way. If we work as a team, it won't take us long."

She nodded happily. For some reason, she didn't mind spending a little extra time alone with Remus.

As they worked, Remus told her a few stories of the work he and his colleagues had done in the Order during the first war. She was glad to listen to him talk—he had a soothing voice, and an engaging story-telling style. It was also comforting to her to hear of the good the Order had done in the last war; it helped to reassure her that she had made the correct choice in joining.

As they were working on the last bed in the final room, Remus suddenly asked her an unexpected question. "Why don't you like your name?"

Ever since she had left school, no one had ever actually asked her _why_ she didn't like it. Once she said she didn't, they would simply let it drop. It took her a moment to collect her wits enough to answer. "Well," she said, "it's so silly, isn't it? So overblown? I've always thought something simpler would have suited me better—like Jane, or Lizzie, or Sue. Not that overdramatic atrocity _Nymphadora_."

Remus shook his head. "I disagree. Simple would not do for you. You're no Jane. I think dramatic is just right for you as a matter of fact."

Tonks laughed. "Now you're just teasing me."

"Not at all. And I think naming you for a nymph was quiet appropriate—when we found you dripping wet in that room, you looked every inch the lovely young water nymph."

"Now I know you're teasing me," she said with a laugh.

Remus gave her his most mischievous grin. "Maybe a little," he admitted. "But I still think it suits you. Nymphadora—the nymph whom everyone adores."

She felt her heart skip a beat as she lost herself in the dimpled smile that he was flashing at her.

Quickly, she looked down as she finished tucking in the coverlet. She took a deep breath to collect her wits, and looked back up at him. "That's it then. We should go down and check on Sirius."

He nodded agreeably. "After you," he said, gesturing toward the door.

………………………………..

Remus and Tonks had caught Sirius half-way through a bottle of wine, and had stopped him by pouring the rest for themselves, and handing him a butterbeer.

They were just finishing another round of sandwiches—this time ham—when a red-haired man stepped through the kitchen door with a grin on his face. "Tonks!" he said. "No one told me you were in the Order!"

"Bill!" she cried, leaping to her feet with a smile, and bouncing over to Bill Weasley to throw her arms around him in a warm hug. Remus watched them in amusement, wondering if Charlie was the only Weasley with whom she'd been "friends."

"I'm the latest recruit," she said, loosening her hold on him to look into his face with a brilliant smile.

"Smashing! Who brought you into the fold?"

"Kingsley."

"I can't believe I didn't think of it myself," he declared.

"So what brings you to my humble abode this evening?" said Sirius.

"Hello, Sirius. Remus," said Bill, nodding at them. Remus nodded back, as Bill went on. "My mum sent me over to assess your progress. She doesn't seem to have too much faith in your abilities."

"No need to worry, Bill. With slave-driver Lupin here, everything has been attended to."

"All of the needed bedrooms, and two bathrooms, are ready for use," added Remus.

"Awesome," said Bill.

"Care to join us?" asked Sirius. "I can open another bottle of wine."

"I'd love that. Mum's been running us all ragged. I really need to find myself a flat somewhere. I don't think I can stand all this family togetherness for much longer."

"Amen to that," said Sirius, rising to get another bottle of wine and an extra glass.

Bill had a sandwich with them, and helped them work their way through the new bottle of wine. All the while he and Tonks chatted amiably, catching up on each other's lives. Sirius was grinning like a fool and butting in with obnoxious jokes whenever he got a chance. Remus didn't say much. He was watching them. And as he watched, he was formulating a plan.

An hour later, Bill rose to leave. "It I don't get home soon, Mum'll have my hide. She's probably already breathing fire."

"Good luck with that, mate," said Sirius.

"Thanks," said Bill. Then he looked at Tonks. "So I'll see you at nine, then?"

"I'll be there," she replied. She had agreed to go over to the Weasley's in the morning to help with the move. "It's good to see you again, Bill."

"Good to see you, too, Tonks."

Not long after Bill left, Tonks sighed. "I'd better go, as well."

"What for?" asked Sirius. "The night is still young."

"I know, but I really need to get some groceries on the way home. There isn't a speck of food in my whole flat, and I doubt I'll have time for shopping tomorrow, what with the move. I really need to get this done before Monday, when I go back to work."

"Fine," said Sirius. "Abandon me. Leave me broken-heart and miserable."

"Don't worry, dear," she said, standing and patting Sirius on the cheek. "At least I'm leaving you in good hands." With this, she turned to Remus and flashed him a charming smile. He smiled wryly in return.

"Goodnight, Sirius," she said.

"Go on. Go on," he said, waving her out.

"I'll see you out," said Remus, rising to his feet.

Sirius grunted, and turned back to his wine.

Remus walked Tonks up the stairs. They paused at the top. "It's been a pleasure having you here," said Remus.

"It's been a pleasure for me, too," she replied.

"In fact," said Remus, "I think we'd both like to see more of you around here."

"Of course!" she said, readily. "I was planning on it."

"Wonderful. You see, I was hoping you could help me with something."

She raised her eyebrows. "What?"

"It's Sirius. You've already caught on to his drinking problem. As jovial as he pretends to be, he's actually been very depressed about being forced to hide away in this home, surrounded by reminders of the childhood he despised." Remus paused. "He hasn't gotten over his time in Azkaban as well as he would like us to think. The reason he always drinks himself to sleep, is because he can't stand the dreams he has when he's sober."

Tonks looked stricken. "I didn't …" she started.

"It's alright. It took me some time to realize the problem myself. What he needs most right now, to keep him from falling into a truly deep depression, is as much friendship and society as he can get. That's where you come in."

"Yes. Yes," she stammered. "I'll come over every day, if I can."

"You don't have to do that much, if it's trouble to make the time."

"No," she shook her head vehemently. "He's family. And he needs me. That's all I need to know. Besides," she added, "I owe him. Or at least the Ministry does. It's time I started paying back their debt."

"Thank you," he said, genuinely grateful. "This whole time you've been here he's seemed so much happier than I've seen him since… since we were first reunited."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Yes. I'm afraid I'm not quite enough for him any more. You see, he went to prison when he was twenty-one, and he never had a chance to grow beyond that age. He seems more at ease around people younger than myself. That's why you're so good for him."

She smiled. "I'm sure I help, but I think you're underestimating yourself."

"Maybe, maybe not," he answered. "In any case, I'm glad you've decided to help me." She nodded. He said, "It might be a good idea to ask Bill to come around more often, as well. Sirius has taken quite a liking to him."

"I'll talk to him tomorrow. I'm sure he'll say yes."

"Thank you."

"No problem. Well, I should be going now."

He walked her to the door, and helped her open the myriad locks. As she stepped out into the warm evening air, she turned to give him one last smile. "Goodnight, Remus."

He unobtrusively slipped his wand into his hand. "Goodnight, Nymphadora."

The look of shock on her fast lasted only an instant before her wand slid into her hand, and rose with an angry flick.

But Remus was ready, raising his own wand just in time. The hex bounced harmlessly off of his shield.

He smiled calmly at her look of astonishment. "Did I forget to mention that I'm brilliant at Shield Charms?"

Her eyes widened, and her expression flickered from annoyance to amusement. Finally, she grinned and shook her head. "You're too much, Remus Lupin."

"Thank you," he said, grinning back. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll see you," she said, shaking her head at him one more time, before turning and walking away.

_A/N: Yes, I know a good old Scourgify would have been a much easier way to clean the floors—but it wouldn't have been nearly as much fun, would it? Much thanks to all my reviewers—I love hearing from you. Anyone who reviews this chapter wins a date with a Remus of their choice: Domestic God Remus, who will cook and clean for you, Playful Remus, who will make the dullest of tasks fun, or Teasing Remus, who will drive you crazy in a good way. Or, if you prefer, I might be able to arrange an evening with dripping-wet-Tonks (just be sure not to call her Nymphadora!)_


	4. Chapter 4: The Beginning

Chapter 4: The Beginning

Remus allowed himself to sleep late the next morning, as he was absolutely certain that the Weasleys would not be arriving as early as they claimed. In fact, he would be surprised if they were completely moved in by dinnertime. Despite the lateness of his rising, he still made it down to the kitchen before Sirius. He had finished his breakfast and read the entire _Daily Prophet_ before Sirius wandered in to the kitchen, and meekly pleaded, "Coffee?"

Remus folded his paper, and pointed. "I have a pot ready for you."

"Bless you," said Sirius, heading for the pot.

After a few cups of coffee, Sirius settled back in his chair with a sigh. "So," he said. "It's our last morning of freedom."

"Yes, and that last morning is already almost over," said Remus, glancing at his watch.

Sirius sighed, again. "It seems our careers as professional babysitters are about to begin."

Remus chuckled. "I doubt any of the young Weasleys would appreciate being told that they need a babysitter. Don't worry too much, Sirius. They're a good lot. I suspect you'll enjoy them much more than you think you will. The twins in particular have a sense of humor that will appeal to you very much."

"Humph," said Sirius, staring at the table. It seemed he was going to be in one of his dark moods today.

"It won't be just the kids, you know. I'm sure that Bill will be spending more time here now that his family is moving in. And I suspect that Tonks would like to take the time to get to know you better."

That did elicit a small smile from Sirius. "Tonks," he said. "Now there's a hell of a woman. Funny, beautiful, smart. If she wasn't my cousin …." Sirius trailed of thoughtfully.

"Then she should be glad she is. I pity the poor woman who suffers the fate of being your _getting over Azkaban_ relationship."

Sirius scowled. "What do you mean by that?"

"What I mean," replied Remus, "is that she could expect lots of shagging, lots of brooding, and a minimal amount of real emotional attachment—on your part that is."

"You're being unfair."

"Am I?" said Remus, raising an eyebrow.

Sirius just looked down and shrugged. Remus took that as grudging confirmation that he was right.

After a minutes silence, Sirius said, rather wistfully, "It would just be nice to have someone. You know? I'm tired of being alone. I don't know how you can stand it—living like a sodding monk."

"It's easier than having my heart ripped out of my chest every few months," said Remus.

"You're just too damn dead-set on having actual relationships. Can't you skip the relationship crap and just get yourself laid once in awhile?"

Remus leaned back in his chair, and pushed his fringe out of his face. "I tried that tactic too. I couldn't pull it off. It seems that I am somehow incapable of preventing myself from becoming emotionally involved. I just can't separate the sex from the emotions. And there's only so many times a bloke can get his heart broken before he decides it's not worth it any more."

"Maybe for some," said Sirius. "I guess I don't have the right emotional make-up for celibacy. I still can't fathom why you would willingly choose it." He looked befuddled, as he did every time this topic came up.

"And I don't think that I can make you understand. You're simply going to have to accept that you and I are irreconcilably different on this particular issue, and leave it at that. However, I do think you'd be surprised how easily a person can adapt to celibacy, after a while, once they've accepted the futility of attempted romance."

Sirius shook his head. "You gave up too easily."

"It wasn't giving up. It was learning to accept my fate."

"You're so blooming melodramatic sometimes."

"I'm not melodramatic."

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not."

"Are too."

"Am no—I'm not having this conversation." Remus clamped his mouth shut, and folded his arms.

Sirius just smiled wryly. After another minute, he spoke again. "Maybe I shouldn't be so quick to rule out Tonks as a legitimate possibility. After all, my family tree is replete with cousin-marriages."

"Marriage isn't what you're looking for."

Sirius shrugged. "So? It's a good enough excuse for what I am looking for, isn't it?"

"No," said Remus firmly. "It's not. Not with Tonks."

"Why not? Do you fancy her for yourself?"

"No!" said Remus. "I respect her. And it would be a good idea if you would start respecting her too. She's going to be our colleague, and she's eager to be our friend. It would be fool-hardy of you to ruin that because you can't think with anything above your belt."

Sirus rolled his eyes. "You're right—of course. I hate it when you go and ruin all my best fantasies."

"You can feel free to fantasize anything you want—just keep your fantasies, and your hands, to yourself."

"Fine," said Sirius, standing up to get himself another cup of coffee. Once he had refilled his mug, he sat back down, and stared into the dark liquid. "I can't help wondering what it would be like to be with a Metamorphmagus. It's been a fantasy of mine for years now, ever since I read this book…"

"Don't tell me," interrupted Remus. "Was it _The Erotic Adventures of Melinda the Metamorph_?"

"You've read it then?" asked Sirius.

"No!" exclaimed Remus, in disgust. "I caught Peter with it in our fifth year, when he was supposed to be doing his History of Magic essay. He told me you gave it to him."

"Did you confiscate it?" asked Sirius, with narrow eyes.

"No. I just made him put it away while we were in the library."

"He told me a teacher confiscated it."

"Was I a teacher at the time?"

"No, but he might have been covering for you."

This time Remus rolled his eyes. "I didn't confiscate it."

"I really wanted that book back."

"I didn't confiscate it!"

"It was a really good book."

"I'm leaving now," said Remus, standing and heading for the door.

"I bet you did take it! And you read it! And that's why you want Tonks for yourself!" yelled Sirius after him.

"Goodbye!" said Remus. Sirius was completely unmanageable when he was in one of these moods.

Despite the ridiculousness of the conversation, however, it had helped Remus to realize something unexpected: he was attracted to Tonks. He would have defended any woman that Sirius had talked about, but talking about Tonks that way had particularly offended him. That was when he knew that he was undeniably attracted to her. It was a problem, but not a big one. He'd been attracted to female colleagues and friends before, and been able to prevent his attraction from interfering with a more platonic relationship. And he could do it again. It would certainly help that there was almost no chance of Tonks being attracted to him in return—how could she be? Remus made his way up to the library, determined to spend the rest of the morning relaxing with a book. Yes, a book would be the perfect way to take his mind off of things that he didn't want to think about.

…………………………………………………………………………………

Tonks's morning with the Weasleys was more fun than she had expected, but it was also more tiring.

Tonks's short relationship with Charlie had ended amicably when he left for Romania, and she had remained on good terms with his family. She always made a point of stopping to chat with Arthur anytime they ran into each other at the Ministry, but it had been a long time since she last encountered anyone else in the family. When she arrived at the Burrow (only a few minutes late) she was delighted at the warmth of their greeting. She was particularly surprised to see Molly's delight at seeing her again. On the numerous occasions when she had visited the Burrow with Charlie, Molly had seemed more to tolerate than like her. It took Tonks most of the morning to realize that her new status as Auror and Order member had elevated her in Molly's eyes to "worthy daughter-in-law material," and that she appeared to be hoping that Bill's invitation to help with the move would soon lead to invitations of a more social nature.

Once she realized what was going on, Tonks wasn't sure whether she ought to be amused or annoyed—and she finally settled on amused. After all, watching Molly's attempts to balance her desire to enthusiastically welcome Tonks with her desire to protect her breakables from Tonks was undeniably amusing. In her quest to keep Tonks away from anything she might damage, Molly finally sent her to help Ginny and her friend Hermione finish the laundry, and pack it away for transport to Grimmauld Place.

Tonks was excited to find that Hermione was one of Harry Potter's best friends. She had been wanting to know more about Harry as a real person, not just a headline in the news, and Sirius's descriptions of him came across as a trifle idealized. She finished her morning with a delightful hour discussing Harry, the prospects for this year's House Quidditch Tournament, and Ginny's current long distance romance with a boy from Ravenclaw. Ginny had grown into a lovely and witty young woman who reminded Tonks very much of Cory at that age—which was very much a good thing.

Once they had finished packing the last of the clean laundry, they joined the family in the kitchen for a hurried lunch. After lunch there was an even more hurried clean-up. Finally, the entire family was ready for the arduous move to Grimmauld Place. Bill went through the Floo first, to coordinate things on the Grimmauld end. Then, they began sending package after package, and trunk after trunk, through the Floo. Just when Tonks was beginning to wonder if Molly was sending the whole contents of the Burrow through, Molly announced that they were finished, and said the family could make the trip. Molly herself was going to take another hour at home to finish "getting the place in order," for their long absence.

After helping Arthur to shepherd the kids through the Floo one by one, Tonks turned to Arthur and Molly. "I'll go help Bill get the kids settled. Go ahead and take an hour or two for yourselves before joining us—I'm sure you won't have much privacy anymore once you finish the move. You'd best enjoy it while you can."

Arthur's tense face relaxed into a grateful smile. "Thank you, Tonks. It already feels like ages since we had any time to ourselves."

Molly, however, looked apprehensive. "Are you sure you can handle them, Tonks? They can be very trying."

"Don't worry, Molly. It'll be fine. Besides, it's not like it's just Bill and I. Sirius and Remus are there to help, as well," said Tonks.

"Do you…" started Molly, then paused, and seemed to be rephrasing her thoughts. "Are you completely comfortable putting him in charge of the children?"

Tonks smiled. Molly's over protectiveness was clouding her thinking. "He's really a sweetheart, Molly. A bit mischievous, but he'd never do any harm. The kids are in fine hands. Trust me."

Molly nodded, with a thin smile. "You must be right—after all, Dumbledore trusts him. And the children have had nothing but good to say about him."

"Exactly."

"Well, I'll leave you to it, then," said Molly. "It really is very sweet of you to give us some time to ourselves. It's hard enough to manage with a house full of children here at home, but at that place, with Sirius underfoot as well, it'll be nearly impossible."

"Then take the time to enjoy it," said Tonks emphatically. "Take all afternoon if you like."

"Thank you, dear," said Molly, giving Tonks a warm hug.

Tonks turned to the Floo, stating the address. Before stepping inside, she gave one last look to Molly. "I'll see you at dinner time," she said.

The look on Molly's face was enough to confirm that dinner might even be too soon.

When Tonks stepped out of the Floo in the Grimmauld Place kitchen she emerged into the midst of a swirl of activity. Remus and Hermione were at the table unloading boxes of kitchen supplies. Bill and Sirius were sorting the trunks and packages into various piles, and Ron and Ginny seemed to be arguing over which of the latest model brooms was to be preferred for Quidditch. Ginny turned to her suddenly.

"Tonks," she said, "I think that the Comet series are the best of the less expensive brooms, but Ron insists that the Cleansweeps are better. What do you think?"

"I have a Comet 260, myself," replied Tonks. "And I've heard very good things about the 290."

Ginny turned to Ron with a knowing smirk on her face. Tonks, not wanting to be the source of a family argument, hastily added, "But I have a chum who swears by the Cleansweep series. And Charlie flew a Cleansweep, didn't he? Perhaps they're better suited to the Weasley-family flying style. But in the end it's really a matter of personal preference, isn't it?"

"See," said Ron. "Cleansweeps are better for our flying style."

"She said it was personal preference, you dolt!" retorted Ginny.

Tonks was about to speak up again, when two loud cracks of Apparation reverberated through the kitchen, and the twins appeared on either side of her, sandwiching her tightly between them. Tonks let out a little yelp of surprise. The twins, clearly not expecting to find someone standing between them, both began to lose their balance. They both reached out to clutch at her to steady their stance—but their grabbing had the opposite effect. All three of them were so thoroughly knocked off balance that they all collapsed into a squirming, laughing heap on the floor.

"This is why you're not supposed to Apparate around the house, you daft pillocks!" yelled Bill, striding over to help Tonks to her feet.

Sirius trailed along behind Bill, chuckling as Bill extricated her from his brothers. "Tonks—this is a momentous occasion," he said. "It must be the first time you've been entangled with a Weasley man since Charlie left! And this time you managed it with two at once."

Tonks scowled at him as the twins burst into gales of laughter. "You are an incorrigible tease, Sirius Black." His only reply was a leering smile and a mocking bow.

"Now get your arses over here, and start helping me move these trunks up to the bedrooms," said Bill to the twins. "And don't let me catch you Apparating around the house again."

Tonks joined them, and Ron and Ginny stepped up to help as well. They spent the next half hour making sure that all the trunks and bags were sorted into piles according to which room they were going to. Then, Bill levitated the first pile, and headed up the stairs. As the twins made to join him, Remus sidled over and caught their attention. "Might I make a suggestion?" he said quietly, his eyes twinkling.

"Sure, Professor," said George.

Remus leaned toward the young men conspiratorially, and said, "Next time you feel like popping down to the kitchen, I suggest you use that back corner," he pointed, "by the larder as your Apparation point. It's out of the way, and it's highly unlikely that anyone will be standing there."

"Thanks, Professor!" said Fred. "We'll remember that." The twins dashed up the stairs talking quickly in low voices to one another.

Remus glanced over at her, and gave her a little smile and a wink. Then he turned to his own pile of trunks and parcels for levitation. Tonks was impressed with how easily he had ensured that no further Apparation accidents would occur, and made himself into the twins's ally at the same time. But she was a little puzzled by their calling him "Professor." She wondered what was behind it.

She took her turn in line levitating a pile of luggage up several flights of stairs, to where Bill was directing traffic into and out of the various bedrooms. Remus was already upstairs helping the children get themselves settled, and she heard both Hermione and Ron address him by the moniker, "Professor," as well. By the time she had a moment to ask him about it, he had already disappeared downstairs to do some more work in the kitchen.

Instead, she asked the twins. "So what's with all of you calling Remus, _Professor_?"

They looked at her in surprise. "Didn't you know?" asked George.

"Know what?" she replied.

"He was teacher, in Defense Against the Dark Arts, the year before faux-Moody took over," said Fred.

"Really?" said Tonks in astonishment. So that was why he had such a good rapport with the children. _Besides, who would be better to teach defense against the Dark, than someone who spent the whole first war fighting on the front lines?_

"Why did he leave?" she asked, burning with curiosity.

"Surely you read about the whole to-do in the _Prophet_?" said Fred.

"No. I never read that rubbish."

"Well," said George, "it was because of the thing with Sirius."

"And the Shrieking Shack," added Fred.

"And Snape," said George.

"And Harry," continued Fred.

"And the fur, and the claws," said George.

"And don't forget Peter Pettigrew," said Fred.

"You mean Scabbers," said George.

"Was that your pet ret that turned out to be Pettigrew in disguise?" asked Tonks, who had heard some of the story from Kingsley.

"Yeah," said George. "It still gives me the willies!"

"We used to take baths with it! Him…it," said Fred.

"That's enough to give anyone the willies," replied Tonks.

"Fred! George! Get over here!" called Bill.

"Coming!" they called in unison, rolling their eyes and heading over to their brother.

They hadn't really answered her question, but it seemed that Remus must have had something to do with Sirius's escape from Hogwarts. If that was the case, then he was lucky that he had only lost his job—he easily could have been arrested. Dumbledore must have intervened on his behalf. But if something about it had been in the _Daily Prophet_, that explained why he was having trouble getting a job. Poor fellow. She hated seeing people suffer injustice, and it seemed that Remus was feeling the brunt of some of the same injustice that had been inflicted on Sirius. She didn't think that she could handle the same sort of treatment as cheerfully as he seemed to be. He really was a fascinating man.

After several hours of helping the children unpack, Bill asked Tonks if she would go down and see if Remus had started anything for supper, yet. She gladly complied.

Much to her delight, as she approached the kitchen the scent of food cooking wafted up to her nose. She went in, and found Remus at the counter, his sleeves rolled up, expertly peeling carrots with precise flicks of his wand.

"I should have known you'd be handy in the kitchen," she said. "You clean, you cook, you're good with children. You'll be a very lovely wife someday."

"Very funny," said Remus, glaring at her.

"Sorry, couldn't help myself," she said with a smile.

"Something you have in common with your cousin."

"Apparently." She could tell that he wasn't really upset. "So how did you get so good at these householdy spells?"

"I discovered, years ago, that if I wanted a clean house I either had to learn to do things the Muggle way, or to master housework spells. And the Muggle way takes so dreadfully long, I decided the spells would be easier. It was well worth my time—I highly recommend it. Either that or ask your mum to get a house elf for your next birthday." He was still looking intently at the vegetables, but she could hear the smile in his voice.

"I'll take it under advisement," she said. "And how about the cooking? That's not as simple as learning a few charms."

"Every old bachelor has to learn to cook eventually, unless he wants to eat in a pub for every meal. I'm only passable at it, really. Can't do anything fancy. Hence, tonight we are having baked pork, mashed potatoes, and carrots."

"It might not be fancy, but it smells wonderful," said Tonks.

"Thank you. Would you like to give me a hand?"

"Only if you have a Muggle-style peeler. If I try to do it with my wand I'd likely end up peeling your fingers."

"I don't think we have one."

"Then I'll just have to watch," she said, taking a seat on the table top, and swinging her legs back a forth.

"So I take it you're not much of a cook yourself?" he asked.

"Much to my mother's chagrin, no. But baking is something else altogether; I can make all kinds of biscuits, and breads, and cakes. As long as I do it all the Muggle way, it comes out beautifully. My Granny Tonks taught me how."

"So what makes baking any different from cooking?"

"I've thought a lot about that one," said Tonks. "I think it's that cooking is more creative, and intuitive. But baking is more like potion-making, you know? If you control the proportions, and temperatures, and mix it properly, it will turn out fine."

"Oh—so you're neither creative nor intuitive, but you can follow directions."

"Something like that."

Remus dumped all the carrots into a pot, and covered them with a little water from the tap. After putting the pot on the stove, he walked over to Tonks and sat next to her on the table. His feet dangled almost a foot closer to the floor than hers.

"It was very thoughtful of you to encourage Molly and Arthur to spend the afternoon at home by themselves," he said.

"It was the least I could do," she said. "This summer's hardly going to be a picnic for them."

"No, it most certainly is not," he agreed.

She swung her foot to kick him lightly in the shin. "I found out about your dirty little secret," she said.

"Which one?" he asked, with a boyish smile.

"The one that involves you being another victim of the Hogwarts DADA curse."

"Ahhh. That one."

"It's a pity, really. The kids all seem to think very highly of you. I'm sure you were an excellent teacher."

"I did my best," he said, looking a little sheepish.

"Do you ever miss it?"

He nodded slowly. "Sometimes. Yes. It was one of my favorite jobs that I've ever had."

"I'm sorry it didn't last."

"So am I."

They were quiet for a minute, watching the pots bubbling on the stove. There was so much she wanted to know about this man, but she had no idea where to start. "What were your other favorite jobs?" she finally blurted.

"Hmmm. I think the other main contender for the title of _favorite_ would have to be the two and one half years I spent working for a research institute in Switzerland."

"Really?" that one caught her off guard. Research institute certainly wouldn't top her list of fun and exciting jobs. "What were you researching?"

"The institute as a whole focused on studying the magical flora and fauna of southeastern Europe. My particular specialty was—"

"Let me guess," she interrupted. "Dark Creatures?"

"You got it one," he said, looking at her with a boyish grin.

"So is that where you met the bloke who wrote the cave book you were reading yesterday?"

His eyes twinkled. "Ah. I see you're putting the renowned deductive reasoning skills of an Auror to use."

She rolled her eyes. "Or maybe I'm just trying to get to know you better. Ever considered that option?"

"Sorry," he said. "I'm not usually this flippant. I think Sirius's bad habits are rubbing off on me."

"S'okay once in a while. Just make sure it doesn't become a permanent state of mind," she replied, kicking his shin with her dangling foot again.

"I'll work on that," he said, swinging his leg in an attempt to kick her back that only resulted in getting his shin banged again.

"You have a distinct advantage at this kicking thing, with those stubby little legs of yours."

"Stubby!? You'll get it for that," she said, repeatedly jabbing her feet at his shins with slightly more force than absolutely necessary.

"You won't get me that easily!" he said, and started swinging his legs wildly to dodge her jabs. The pair continued to best each other in the impromptu kicking match, laughing loudly, for several minutes. Remus even managed to get in a few good jabs of his own. After his third good jab connected with her shin, she exclaimed, "Ohhh—you're asking for it now!" and started poking him in the shoulder with her finger.

"Hey! You're changing the rules," he said, grabbing at her wrist.

She evaded him, and said, "Who said there were any rules?"

They were on the verge of starting a full-fledged wrestling match when Arthur stepped out of the fire, brushing the soot from his trousers. "Hello there!" he said. "Something smells good in here."

Tonks froze, both her hands raised. Remus had his hand clamped around one of her wrists, and her other hand was aimed with finger pointed, at his forehead, where she'd been hoping to get in a good jab.

Arthur blinked a few times. "Am I interrupting something?" he asked.

Tonks quickly dropped her hands. "Oh, no. Nothing. Nothing at all."

"Tonks was just demonstrating some Muggle un-armed combat techniques for me," said Remus with a perfectly straight face.

Tonks nearly choked, holding in the laugh that sought to burst out.

Arthur's eyes lit up. "Muggle combat techniques? That sounds fascinating. Would you mind showing me some?"

Tonks cleared her throat uneasily. Remus spoke again before she even had time to think of a reply. "Dinner's almost ready, so we'd best get to that first," he said. Tonks was about to sigh in relief when he added, "but I'm sure she'd be glad to put on a demonstration for you later this evening."

"Splendid!" said Arthur, clapping his hands together enthusiastically.

Tonks glared Remus. He smiled, and winked. Just then, Molly stepped out of the fire. She looked considerably happier than she had last time Tonks saw her.

"Is that dinner?" said Molly with a hopeful smile.

"It most certainly is," said Tonks. "Apparently Remus here is some sort of domestic god. He cleans, he cooks, he tidies. There's nothing he can't do."

"Splendid! It's so nice to know I won't have to do all the work myself. Dinner smells fantastic, Remus. Thank you very much."

"It's my pleasure, Molly," said Remus. Tonks admired his tact and restraint as she sent a series of tiny kicks into the side of his leg.

"Well, let's get everyone rounded up for dinner," said Molly. "Tonks, would you help Arthur gather them all in, while Remus and I set the table?"

"No problem," said Tonks. She followed Arthur up the stairs, but before leaving the kitchen she cast one last glance over shoulder to look at Remus. She found him staring right at her, his eyes shining, a little smile on his face. She shot a little smile of her own back at him, then turned and jogged up the stairs. _Yes_, she thought, _undeniably fanciable. I can't believe I first thought he was a _five_! Surely he's a seven and half. Maybe even an eight._

After a rather raucous dinner and an even more raucous cleaning-up, Tonks spent a few hours helping Sirius to entertain the Weasleys in one of the less-ghastly sitting rooms. When she was finally too exhausted to continue, she bid them all goodnight, and said that she would see herself out. Once out in the hall, however, she decided that there was one last thing that she wanted to do before heading back to her flat.

She had noticed Remus unobtrusively sneaking out of the sitting room more than a half hour ago, and she wanted to see him one last time before leaving.

The first place she decided to look was the large library she had noticed on the ground floor. And sure enough, there he was, lounging in a plush armchair, an oversized volume in his lap, and a cup of tea on the table beside him.

Tonks paused just outside the room, taking in the scene. He was intent on his massive book, and a smile danced at the corners of his mouth. _Eight. Absolutely an eight._ With a little smile on her own face, she continued to watch him as she lazily ambled into the library where she promptly ran into a side table and upset a vase, which shattered noisily on the floor.

"Bugger!" she exclaimed loudly.

Remus looked up in astonishment, and said, "Tonks! Are you all right?"

"Fine," she grumbled, pulling out her wand. "_Reparo_." she flicked her wand at the pile of shards, and watched them leap back into wholeness. Then she carefully placed the repaired vase back on the side-table, and sighed. "I'm just too worn out to pay proper attention to where I'm going. And it's all your fault, I'll have you know."

He closed his book, and raised his eyebrows. "And how is that?"

She sank into the nearest sofa, and glared at him. "Thanks to you, I just spent twenty minutes demonstrating un-armed Muggle combat techniques for Arthur."

Remus laughed. "He fell for it? I wasn't sure if he would."

"Well he did, and now my muscles are paying the price. I recruited Bill to help me, because he's seen enough Muggle movies to help me approximate Kung Fu."

"I'm sorry I missed it," he said, sounding genuine.

"I'm sure you are. You would have had a jolly time watching me make a fool of myself like that," she said.

"I'm sure Sirius can tell me all about it."

"He'll likely give you a play-by-play. He didn't stop sniggling at me the whole time." She glanced at his book. "What was so interesting that you had to sneak off and read like a hermit?"

"It's nothing. I'm just used to having more time to myself. I was starting to feel a little claustrophobic in that crowded room."

"I know what you mean." She looked at the book again. "It's far too big to be nothing. Really—what is it?"

"Shakespeare," he said, patting the large tome. "The complete works."

"Oh—getting caught up in one of the histories is it? Or do you prefer the tragedies?"

He shook his head. "I'm reading one of the comedies, actually. _Much Ado about Nothing_."

"I love that one!" she said, delighted. "It's so much fun to see Beatrice and Benedick acting like they can't stand each other, when deep down inside they both know they're really perfect for each other, and all they need is a little push in the right direction to realize it."

"So are you a fellow Shakespeare aficionado?" he asked, his dimples displaying themselves to great advantage.

"Oh yes. My father loves Shakespeare, and starting when I was eight, every year for my birthday he would take me to a Shakespeare production. A Muggle one, where it's just the actors speaking the words, and the rest is up to your imagination. And once school got in the way of our birthday outing, he started taking me to productions over the holidays. We almost always went to one over the Christmas break, and another two or three over the summer. And since I finished school, we still try to make it to at least two shows a year together."

"That's wonderful! I've only been to a handful of shows, myself. But I love reading the plays. I've been through them all four times now. But to see them all on stage like that—it must have been wonderful."

"It was. And it was great spending the time with my dad, as well," she said.

"I never really knew your father, in school, but I'm starting to get the feeling that I'd like him very much."

"I think you would. And I think he'd like you too."

"So, with all that theater-going, have you seen all of them?"

"No. There are five that I haven't seen yet."

"Which ones?"

She ticked them off on her fingers as she spoke. "_Edward the Third, Timon of Athens, Two Noble Kinsmen, Troilus and Cressida, _and_ King Lear._"

"How can you have missed _King Lear_? There are productions all the time."

"I know," she shrugged. "It just somehow fell through the cracks."

"Have you read it, at least?" he seemed genuinely appalled at her lack of experience with _King Lear_.

"I'm afraid not," she said, shaking her head. "I've only read two of them, actually. I have trouble reading plays to myself—it's so much nicer to hear the words spoken out loud."

"Well then," he said, flipping through his large tome, "we shall have to remedy this situation at once."

He found the page that he was looking for, stood, and carried the book over to her, taking a seat beside her on the sofa. She looked down at the pages. It was open to _King Lear._

"You want me to read it right now?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes. For a purported Shakespeare fan, your failure to be familiar with _King Lear_ is an absolute travesty. And I intend to set things right. Now, let's divide up the parts."

She smiled in delight as they divided the roles between them. Remus had a pleasantly gravelly voice that sounded damn sexy reading Shakespeare. She tripped over the words for the first few pages, but soon found the rhythm of the archaic poetry. She never thought reading aloud could be this enjoyable.

……………………………………………………………………….

Although he had wanted some time to himself, Remus was enjoying reading with Tonks quite a bit. She had a vivacious spirit that was very appealing, and she put some of that spirit into every line she read. She even started doing different voices for her various characters, so Remus started doing the same, though with considerably less success.

She seemed to be enjoying herself, but her sleepiness became increasingly evident throughout the second act. Yawns began to punctuate most of her lines. When the act was finished, Remus turned to her, and said, "I think that's enough for one night. You look exhausted."

As if to confirm his observation, she yawned again. "I am. But I really want to see what happens."

"Then we'll have to finish it some other time. You're far too tired to keep on going tonight."

She nodded. "You're right. But let's finish it soon—sometime this week, before I start to forget what happened."

"Do you have any evenings free?" he asked.

"I should be free on Wednesday."

"Well then, I'll plan on finishing the last three acts with you on Wednesday—on one condition."

"What condition?" she looked perplexed.

He knew he was taking a bit of a chance with this, but he couldn't help himself. _Tonks _was just such a hard, unattractive name for someone who was anything but hard and unattractive. "I'll finish this play with you on Wednesday," he said, "if you'll let me call you Nymphadora."

Her smile thinned, but she didn't look angry, thank goodness. "So we're back to this, are we?"

"It seems that we are."

"You're a damn stubborn man, Remus. Did you know that?"

"I've been told, from time to time."

She rolled her eyes, and sighed. "Fine. You can call me Nymphadora. But only when no one else is around. I don't want anyone thinking I've gone soft."

"Thank you, Nymphadora." He rolled the lovely name off his tongue. "It seems appropriate to use that name while reading Shakespeare, don't you think? It sounds like a very Shakespearian name. I can just see a little fairy Nymphadora frolicking alongside Titania and Oberon."

She smiled at him, and shook her head. "You are a very strange man, Remus Lupin."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

She yawned again. "Are you too tired to Apparate?" he asked. "You could always use the Floo."

She shook her head. "No. I'm used to Apparating when I'm tired. It's part of my job."

"It would be, wouldn't it? I'll walk you to the door, then."

When they reached the door, he undid all of the complicated locks, and let her out. She turned back to look at him.

"Goodnight, Remus."

"Goodnight, Nymphadora. I'll see you Wednesday, if not sooner."

"If not sooner."

She turned, and walked away.

As he closed and locked the door behind her, he couldn't help but reflect over the past few days. _In just two short days,_ _she's already brought so much light and cheer to this gloomy house._ He hoped she would come back often, just as she had said.

He had the feeling that this was the beginning of a lovely friendship. He turned and walked happily up to his room, already looking forward to seeing her again.

_A/N: This is the end of "First Impressions," but for anyone who wasn't aware, this is part of a larger fic-verse that I have been rampantly writing out of chronological order. FYI the correct chronological order of this fic-verse so far is: 1) "First Impressions" 2) "A Serious Misunderstanding" 3) "Marauders Redux" 4) "Second Thoughts". As I add to the fic-verse I will include notes with the updated chronology. Thanks again for reading!_

_If you review, you too can have the treat of Remus reading Shakespeare to you in his sexy gravelly voice. :D  
_


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